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EUROPE IN A HUERY. 



BY 



GEORGE WILKES 







NEW YORK : 
IT. LONG & BROTHER 

NO. 43 ANN-STREET. 

1853. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, 

BY GEORGE WILKES, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New York. 






#a«/a«0. 



The following letters, written to fill the gaps of a 
journal during the absence of its editor, will, it is 
hoped, prove acceptable to the reader in the more 
presumptuous form of a book. The letters make no 
pretensions to method, and appear simply as casual 
reflections along the fast fashionable route, or what 
may now be termed, the American route between 
Liverpool and Rome. With this word of explanation, 
the author drops this volume in the rail-road cars of 
public opinion, trusting that even in this age of speed, 
"Europe in a Hurry" may afford a few moments 
of gratification even to the fastest traveler. 

GEOEGE WILKES. 



€<$>%€€%€&. 



Voyage of tlio Niagara, ...... 

Liverpool — Probable Destiny of New York and Liverpool — English 

Servants — Rail-roads and Phantom Policemen, . 
Scenes in London — Barbers and Baths — Men, "Women, and Coffee 

Houses, ....... 

The Sea of London— Club Houses— United States at the World': 

Fair, ....... 

London Police — Pentonville, Milbank, and Newgate Prisons, 

The Queen— The Ladies— The Ascot Paces— The Opera— The Thea 

tres — Madame Ugaldc and the Prodigal Son, 
The Review — Harrow on the Hill — St. Paul's — Madame Tussaud's, 
Westminster Abbey and the Tower, .... 
English Social Scale — The Parks of London — The Cremorne Gardens 
London — Its Dens of Crime and Misery, 
London Weather — Voyage to Calais, .... 
| Paris— Dinners and Dress — Grisettes and the Streets, 
The Places of Paris— The Bath — Pere la Chaise, 
National Drinks— English, American, and French Drinkers — The 

Ceremony of the Mass, ..... 
The Garden of Plants— Philosophy of Bears — French Character- 
Delicacy of the Fine Arts, .... 
Tapestry and China — Notre Dame and Miracles — A Doubtful Saint, 
Philosophy of French Revolutions — The French Soldiers— Louis 

Napoleon, ....... 

i Sunday in Paris — Churches and Balloons — Theatres — French Matri 

monv, ....... 



10 



81 
42 

61 
73 
93 
106 
120 
132 
140 
155 

172 

182 
193 

205 

214 



VI CONTENTS. 

l'AGK. 

The Palaces of Paris, . . . . . . .223 

Brussels — Waterloo, ....... 284 

Brussels — The Miraculous Wafers — Lace Manufactory — Antwerp, . 246 
The Cathedrals of Europe — Liege — Veviers — Cologne, . . 255 

Legend of Dom Kirche— The Eleven Thousand Virgins, . . 266 

Bonn — The Mummies of Kreutzberg — The Khine and its Legends, . 278 
Mayence — Weisbaden — Frankfort, ..... 2S9 

Heidelberg — Baden-Baden — Hell — The Castle of Torture — Life among 

the Springs, . - . . . . . .300 

Strasbourg— The Clock and the Cock— Basle— The Castle Kuin, . 317 
The Swiss Diligence — The Scenery of the Jura — The Valley of the 

Suze — Bienne, ....... 329 

Berne— Lucerne— Altorf— The Passage of the Alps— The Devil's 

Bridge— The Break-Down— Faido, ... 338 

Italian Switzerland — Dugano — Como — Milan — The Tragedy of Love, 350 
Teatro la Scala — Life in a Diligence — Pavia — Genoa, . . . 862 

From Genoa to Leghorn — Pisa and the Leaning Tower — Beautiful 

Bathers, ........ 375 

Civita Vecehia — Exploits of the French Army — The Kide to Eome— 

Italian Postillions — Eoma the Great, .... 386 
The Forum of Trajan — The Column of Antoninus — The Corso — 

The Widow Perplexed — The Capitol — The Dying Gladiator — 

House of Eienzi, ....... 398 

j The Coliseum — The Mamertime Prisons — The Pantheon — St. Peter's 

— The Apollo Belvidere — Excavations for Statues, . . 409 

I Nero, and the Burning of Eome— The Churches— The Palaces and 

the Picture Galleries— The Baths of Caracalla— The Philosophy 

of Saintship, . . . • . .420 

The Population— The Priests— The Palace of the Caesars, . . 430 

From Eome to Paris — The Demon of the Soane — Journey to London 

— Departure for Home — Conclusion, .... 441 



EUROPE IN A HUKRY. 



VOYAGE OF THE NIAGARA. 

London, May, 1851. 

After six years of incessant editorial labor, I found my- 
self, on the 14th day of May, on the bosom of the Atlantic, 
in one of the Cunard steamers, seeking a temporary repose 
in the half leisure of a travel, which is intended to be 
divided between my own enjoyment and service to my 
readers. I feel that I am entitled to this semi-holiday. My 
tasks have not only been unremitting, but severe and ardu- 
ous, and without vanity, I think I can refer such of my read- 
ers as may feel disposed to grumble at my temporary 
absence, to a list of services to the public and to them, which 
should accredit me to a very liberal vacation. I am in 
hopes, however, to give full compensation for my privilege 
of excursion, by the arrangements which I shall make for 
their benefit, and in the observations which I shall be able 
to transmit to them, as soon as I settle again into a writing 
trim. At present I hardly feel I am so, and will therefore 
content myself with such few preliminary features of my 
journey, as will serve the purpose of a prologue to succeed- 
ing letters. 



"Z EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

If a good beginning amounts to anything as a guarantee, 
or, as an omen, I shall doubtless have a fine time of it 
throughout my tour. For the first five days after leaving 
Boston, the sea was as smooth as a widow's face, and during 
the entire ten and a half days' passage we had but a single 
day of stormy weather. Despite of these favorable circum- 
stances, one-third of the passengers, and all of the ladies, 
except a notable little woman from Boston, fell victims during 
the fine weather to the mere swell — or that ponderous pulsa- 
tion which never entirely leaves the sea — and went out like 
badly lighted tapers at Vauxhall, with no excuse of wind or 
weather for their desertion of the performance. In a day or 
two they would return, the women wilted and the men 
unshaved, looking, as they took their seats at table, with timid 
glances up and clown the line of dishes, as if not altogether 
certain that peace had yet been established between them 
and their stomachs on any sure foundation. The stormy 
day took the laugh from all the rest of the passengers, save 
some half dozen unimpressible fellows, who eat and drank 
despite of wind and weather, and who occasionally gave 
dismal remedies for sea-sickness to the unhappy invalids, as 
if health and appetite were reserved rights of their own, and 
they were authorized to protect them by any species of mis- 
chievous policy whatever. 

As I was among the fortunate exempts, I was enabled to 
stand aloof and enjoy both si das of the game, and to observe, 
at an advantage, the character of the passengers. There 
were but ninety in all, and they formed a most incongruous 
company, being divided about equally into English, Ameri- 
can, French, Spanish, and Italian — all bound for Modern 
Babylon and the World's Fair. These parties formed them- 
selves into cliques, which, with the exception of the Ameri- 
can and English, made no friendship with the others. Our 



VOYAGE OF THE NIAGARA. o 

rapid progress obviated the ordinary necessities of inter- 
course for a Jong journey, and seemed to inspire that state 
of mind which is possessed by the passengers in a ferryboat, 
whose jaunt across a river does not render them dependent 
on companionship for comfort. This rule would not proba- 
bly have been absolute with us of the Niagara, had not the 
ludicrous sea-sickness of a marquis, who might be considered 
the leader of the Spaniards, betrayed him to the ridicule of 
the English and Americans at the outset ; and had not the 
unfortunate manners of Monsieur Bois le Compte, the return- 
ing French Ambassador from the United States, consigned him 
to very general disgust. The countrymen of the Cid looked 
askant at the Saxons for their levity at the marquis, and the 
French seemed disposed to ape the hauteur of the ambassa- 
dor, with all except the ladies, and those who had ladies 
under their charge. It is but just to the body of them, how- 
ever, to say, that they did not, like the ambassador, scratch 
their heads with their knife handles while at dinner; they 
did not raise the covers before the waiters were prepared to 
make a general opening of the dishes, and they did not use 
the promenade deck for purposes which are usually consigned 
to the most private portions of the ship ; but they bolted 
their meals with equal voracity, and scraped the choicest 
covers with as quick a hand as their most honorable leader. 
From my observation of the manners of the Frenchmen 
on board this vessel, I am deposed to think that the credit, 
which is usually accorded to them of being the politest na- 
tion of the world, is undeserved ; and I use this remark with 
especial reference to their demeanor towards ladies. During 
this voyage they fairly haunted the female passengers, follow- 
ing them about with a pertinacity that never tired, but treat- 
ing the gentlemen who had them in charge with an assiduous 
blandness that was impassable to offense. The English, on 



4 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the other hand, were indifferent and unaffable, taking no 
notice of the ladies, except when thrown in their way, while 
the Americans were remarkable for that careful respect for 
which they are characterized as a nation in their treatment 
of the sex. It will not be pretended that the attentions of 
the Frenchmen were by any means philanthropic; they 
were not extended out of the single and praiseworthy motive 
of alleviating the tedium of a passage to the ladies whom 
they beset with their gabble and grimaces ; but they were 
put in requisition for the evident purpose of locating an 
interest for themselves in the minds of those ladies, and of 
carrying themselves into a description of favor, that would 
enable them to enjoy the conceit of having gained an appa- 
rent advantage. The attentions of the Americans were 
assiduous but unobtrusive, and were distinguished by the 
substantial respect which courage and honor is always proud 
to extend towards the worthy and the weak. There is no 
people on the face of the earth who hold a virtuous female 
in such high esteem as the American people. It is an 
esteem which amounts almost to absolute reverence, and it 
exhibits itself even among the rudest classes of our popula- 
tion as purely as it ever was evinced by the old chivalry of 
Spain. The French, as a general thing, are polite to 
females for advantage; the American is polite from regard. 
This is the distinction between American and French 
politeness. 

Among the passengers it would scarcely be fair to omit 
to notice a scarlet-faced individual, who, by some means, had 
got into the first cabin, and who, I was told, had gained 
some notoriety a few years ago, for having won wagers, in 
eating, against heavy odds. I do not know that he is still 
open to this kind of exploit, but I very well know, by the evi- 
dence of my eyes, that his carnivorous capacity has by no 



VOYAGE OF THE NIAGARA. 5 

means forsaken him on this voyage. It was my misfortune 
to sit near him at table, and I was often so occupied w T ith 
his performances, that the meal passed away to my loss, 
while I was engaged in silent amazement. Rounds of beef 
dwindled under his hand ; dishes of hash disappeared from 
before him like magic, while cataracts of coffee passed 
through a line of sweating waiters to wash the solids down, 
with a rapidity that was worthy of admiration, even in the 
kitchen discipline of that excellent ship. The table in his 
neighborhood might be likened to a meat shop under the 
influence of enchantment, with him as the magician in the 
centre, effecting the changes with his mouth. When done, 
he would walk up and down the cabin, slapping himself on 
the belly, in order to drive up the wind, and exclaiming, 
" Oh, that 's good ! that 's comfortable !" as it came up in 
offensive instalments. In offset for the disgust which he 
thus excited, he became the standing joke of the ship during 
the last three days, by speaking of a roast pig which he 
devoured at one meal, as " divine," and whenever he appear- 
ed thereafter, the cry of " pig, pig," could be heard in com- 
pliment to his performances and his criticism. The best of 
the joke was, he took the notice as a compliment, and when 
he heard the signal of contempt, would go up and down, 
smiling like a slit in a raw beef steak, and crying " pig, 
pig !" himself. The time of the passage was whiled away 
very pleasantly, in these and similar observations, while the 
tedium of several hours was baffled or consumed, in writing 
to those friends who were entitled to my recollection, and 
whose fidelity could still hold the anchors of regard. 

A portion of one afternoon was consumed, by following 
an apparition, which appeared out of a narrow pit in the 
centre of the deck, back to his fiery lair in the bottom of 
the ship. Here I saw several similar shadows, writhing in 



6 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

torture, and shoveling loads of coal into the roaring fur- 
naces, or tearing from their molten caves the glowing refuse 
of fire. As these demons twisted to and fro with their 
rakes and pokers, the sweat poured from their laboring 
frames like rain, and at every few minutes, each would be 
obliged to pause and stand under the wind-sail to regain his 
breath and strength. I wondered, as I inhaled that stifling 
air, and as my nerves shrunk from the deafening crash of 
the machinery, how these beings existed in such an atmos- 
phere, and what was the allurement which tempted them to 
shorten their lives by such a process. To solve the ques- 
tion, I asked one of them what was his rate of pay. " We 
gets three punds^fomonth, but in the Yankee ships they 
gets six punds, aircWias more men!" was the answer of the 
furnace-fiend. At this point, we left pandemonium and 
returned to upper air, with a few new notions on the philos- 
ophy of liberty, the love of which, even in its darkest 
aspect, could induce a human being to prefer such a model 
of hell, to the comforts of crime as conferred in a prison. 

On Saturday, the ninth day of our passage, we made 
Cape Clear, at 4 o'clock, a. m., and ran all the morning in 
the sight of land. One of the passengers who had been 
very sick in the early part of the passage, looked at it with 
extreme distrust, though the houses were plainly discernible 
on shore, and in view of the horrible lies which he had pre- 
viously been obliged to swallow on the subject of weather, 
by those who had been at sea before, offered to bet that the 
apparent line of coast w r as only a panorama got up by the 
Purser, (an inveterate joker by whom he had suffered,) for 
the delusion of the passengers. Nay, when laughed at, he 
even proposed to extend his offer, and to take reasonable 
odds, that since we had left America, all the land of the two 
hemispheres had " gone under." This gentleman had been 



OF THE NIAGARA 



told, in the early stages of the stormy day, by several of 
the old Atlantic stagers to whom he appealed for informa- 
tion whether the wind was likely to increase, that the sea, 
which then boiled about us, and sent us swinging in huge 
freaks from side to side, was a mere trifle, in fact, not a 
patch on what they had seen many times before. Finally, 
he sought my view of the state of affairs early on the fol- 
lowing morning, when the vessel was pitching at a terrible 
rate, and the sea was running as high as it ever runs in the 
middle latitudes. He came to my state-room, and in confi- 
dence informed me, that a young gentleman with a lisp and 
a thin moustache, had told him with atuair of nonchalance 
the very night before, and while the stJHHnas quite as bad 
as then, that he had crothed the Atlantic fourteen times 
before, and had never theen it tho mild and plathid as at 
that vethy moment. I, at this, leaned out of my berth and 
assured him on the strength of my eminence, that the sea 
seldom ran more wildly than at that moment. Never- 
theless, I had no doubt that some of the pretended oracles 
of the ocean would tell him when he went above again, that 
it was as smooth as glass, and in view of that exigency, it 
was my settled advice that he should provide himself quiet- 
ly with a club, and lay it upon the first man who told him 
the ship did not roll, inquiring at the same time, if that 
rolled any either. He promised to adopt my counsel, but 
returned in a few minutes in high glee, and acquainted me 
while I was dressing, that the young man with the pukish 
moustache had his head in the scuppers, and was imploring 
some one, during the intervals of his more than mortal 
agony, to come and take his life. 

The afternoon of Saturday was spent in great glee. It 
not only marked the event of our last day at sea, but it 
was the anniversary of the Queen's birthday. As a com- 



8 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

pliment to the occasion, an intelligent old gentleman from 
Boston, who had been made bearer of despatches, proposed 
the health of her Majesty at dinner, and prefaced it with a 
few happy remarks upon her virtues as a mother and a 
Queen. It was drank with three times three by the Ameri- 
cans and English, who rose to their feet to do the honors, 
but unexpected to them all, the French, the Spaniards, and 
Italians, made no response and kept their seats. In reply 
to the toast, Mr. Beddick, the mail-agent, who is a fine spe- 
cimen of the old English naval officer, gave (in the absence 
of the captain,) the health of the President of the United 
States, with a few words in his favor, equally as flattering 
as those of Mr. Hastings, on the Queen. This sentiment 
was greeted with a still louder burst than the first, and the 
French Ambassador rose to his feet and drained his glass to 
theboftom. But none other of the foreigners rose. At this 
point, I was called out to see the Tuskar light, which we 
were then passing, but afterwards learned with regret, that 
the toasts passed to the Captain and officers of the vessel, 
without any mention of the people or President of France. 
The minister noticed the slight, and after joining in the health 
to Captain Stone, left the saloon. Had I been present, 
though averse to taking part in any such performance, and 
particularly averse to the character and course of Louis 
Napoleon, the tribute of the Ambassador should have found 
some return. It was an unhappy oversight, but though it 
seems to take the edge from one-half of what I felt I had a 
right to say about American politeness, in the earlier por- 
tion of this letter, it leaves my position really unimpaired, 
for even in the body of this example, we show two acts of 
courtesy over the French, and the main one too, is in the 
matter of a virtuous and estimable lady. 

This latter circumstance closed the incidents of a very 



VOYAGE OF THE NIAGARA. 9 

pleasant voyage, in a very good ship, under very skillful 
and obliging officers, and on Sunday morning, the 25th of 
May, at six o'clock, we anchored off Liverpool, after a voy- 
age of ten days and eighteen hours. What has happened 
under my supervision since, will be the subject of my next 
letter, under date from this place. 



Queen's Hotel, London, May 30, 1851. 

Liverpool — Probable Destiny of Neiu York and Liverpool — 
English Servants — Railroads and Phantom Policemen. 

We anchored off Liverpool in the middle of the Mersey 
on the 24th, during a hard rain, which was blown spitefully 
in our faces by one of the strong westerly gales that are said 
to prevail at that port. As soon as the labors of the faith- 
ful engine ceased, the passengers, aroused by the sudden 
cessation of that throb of the vessel which had been their 
lullaby for ten days, began to tumble out of their berths, 
and in a few minutes were bustling up and down the cabin 
aisles in a sort of distracted haste, as if they feared the haven 
would recede, or the ship take a notion to turn upon her 
tracks and go to sea again before they could get on shore. 
All order and courtesy were forgotten. Those who had 
been most familiar during the sojourn upon the waters, 
passed each other almost without recognition. The formali- 
ties of friendship, now that nothing more was to be made 
by them, went by the board in the revival of special selfish- 
ness. The social agglomeration of a decade was to be dis- 
tributed again into the great ocean of the world, to widen 
apart until no ripple was left upon the memory, that its par- 



LIVERPOOL. 11 

tides had once met and started from the same point. It was 
a sad picture of a larger stage of life. The only persons who 
seemed to be alive to anything like general observation were 
the stewards and waiters, who appeared at every point, and 
watched with a vigilance that seemed miraculous, an oppor- 
tunity to catch the eyes of the passengers, in order to remind 
them they were on hand to receive such waifs in the way of 
change as they might feel disposed to give. 

Our next ceremony was with the custom-house officer, 
and_this was a very unpleasant one. In consequence of the 
regulations of the department, which has recently caught the 
phariseeism of the post-office, no baggage can be passed on 
Sunday, and the largest privilege to be obtained in this way 
was the liberty to take a valise or carpet-bag ashore, for the 
sake of a clean shirt during the detention in the town of Liv- 
erpool till the following day. This is not only an exceed- 
ingly inconvenient regulation, but it is likely to become a 
seriously injurious one to those who make it. It forces a 
crowd of people to remain a day over from their destination 
at a large expense, and in case they are obliged to hurry 
through, and leave their trunks to the care of hotel-keepers 
to forward, it subjects them to a charge of eight cents per 
pound as freight, and the worse alternative of their entire 
loss. These evils are rendered the greater from the fact that 
the English steamers, which sail from New York and Boston 
on Wednesdays, are almost sure to arrive at Liverpool on 
Sunday, and the detention and inconvenience which grow 
out of this fact, are sufficient of themselves to decide the 
choice of passengers in favor of the American line. The ex- 
tra expense to which I was thus put, was fourteen dollars, 
and the deprivation of my trunks from Sunday morning un- 
til the following Tuesday afternoon. Then they arrived to 
me in London, with the contents shamefully disordered by 



12 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the revenue underlings, who, like many of the low people 
of this country, appear to exhibit a special dislike, not to 
say spite, to everything American. With the well-bred 
classes, however, it is but just to say the rule is all the other 
way. 

On arriving at my hotel I was struck, as all transatlantic 
strangers are, with the host of females who swarm the de- 
partments of large establishments of this kind. They act as 
bar-keepers, book-keepers, stewards, and exclusively as at- 
tendants upon the bed-chambers. They will wait upon you 
there afc any hour of the day or evening, inside of midnight, 
and are by no means alarmed if they find you in bed ; while 
they run all the risk of disturbing you in more serious disha- 
bille. The only men who figure in the scene are the wait- 
ers in the eating room, and a distinguished functionary 
known as "Boots." There are many inconveniences, as 
well as disadvantages, in this system, against the stranger. 
It prevents him, if he be a modest man, from summoning an 
attendant to his chamber until he has taken pains to dress 
himself, and it prevents the same kind of man from close]y 
examining his bill. All of my readers will at once conceive 
that I suffered the extreme of both of these objections. In- 
deed, all Americans fall victims to their deference to female 
clerks. They are shut off from those familiar inquiries 
which strangers usually indulge in with bar-keepers, in order 
that they may not suffer from suspicion of flirtation, while 
they never think of imputing unfairness to the fair, by scru- 
tinizing their figures too closely. The system is a shrewd 
one. In the way of money-making the English people are as 
acute as the Americans in ascertaining the strong pull on the 
pocket. I have no doubt the hotel-keepers here will adhere 
to tiiG female system, and I have no doubt our travelers will 
continue to bleed under it. As a practical evidence beyond 



LIVERPOOL. 13 

words, I will state that my personal bill for a room for half 
a clay, the privilege of a wash, dinner, and a pint of sherry, 
was four dollars and fifty cents ; among the items of which 
were sixty-two and a half cents for the wash, eighteen cents 
for a cup of coffee, and fifty cents for a glass of ice-cream. 
I looked at the waiter twice during my meal, and considered 
myself quite fortunate after having paid my bill, in per- 
suading him to content himself with the present of half a 
crown. I do not mind being particular about these trifles, 
as there are many Americans to follow after, and precautions 
in the way of expense may be of more service to many of 
them than to me. 

* I improved most of the day in driving round the town of 
Liverpool and its environs, at the rate of a dollar the hour, 
(which is the New York price) and after dinner took a stroll 
along its famous docks. Liverpool is not an ancient place, 
and though ranking as the first commercial port in the world, 
is not an incorporated city. Its only ancient building is the 
Church of St. Stephen, the foundations of which were laid in 
the latter part of the seventeenth century, while for into the 
present century it had not reached a population of a hundred 
thousand. It has derived its whole importance from its 
magnificent docks, (a counterpart of which may be seen in 
the Atlantic Docks at Brooklyn,) which, in defiance of a 
shifting shore and vicious gales, have made perfect shelter 
where Nature never meant a port. Next to London, Liver- 
pool is now the pride of England, and some of the boastful 
of these Anglo Saxons claim it will eventually eclipse New 
York. I am inclined to think that they and those of us, 
who found great hopes upon the future pre-eminence of New 
York, are doomed to disappointment. I believe that within 
fifty years New York will have fallen to the condition of a 
second or third rate mart, while Liverpool will have shrunk 



14 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

from her present boastful two hundred and thirty thousand 
population into her meagre measure at the outset of the cen- 
tury. The mind of man, which ordinarily defers to Nature, 
but which has got beyond the creeping point, intends to 
transfer the power of these cities to other points. Neither 
New York nor Liverpool have sufficient water in their chan- 
nels to meet the views that are now in embryo, and those 
views embrace the project of steam-ships of ten thousand 
tons. As soon as it is proven that comparative strength 
can be carried out with size, steam-ships will be built of ten 
thousand tons burthen, they will carry a thousand first class 
passengers, and they will cross the ocean in six or seven 
days. Norfolk and Newport, which have sixty feet of water", 
will then be the great ports of the United States, and South- 
ampton will be the commercial entrepot of Great Britain. 

There is nothing repugnant to the simplest calculation in 
this idea. The whole view rests upon the question of com- 
parative strength with increased size in steam-ships. It is 
the common notion that monster vessels are not safe, but 
while this is the common notion, Science, which is never 
deceived by prejudice, has been quietly increasing the size 
of ships, until the vessels of the Collins' line exceed the bulk 
of the President and Great Britain. Science will increase 
them larger still, though obliged to rib them with refined 
steel and line their enormous sides with double engines. 
Then ocean travel will be squared and ordered like lines 
upon the land ; these new monsters of the deep will lie 
steadily upon the great bed of the ocean, beneath the motion 
of the waves, or that surface agitation, the greatest height 
of which has been ascertained to be only twenty-five feet, 
with an average of eighteen. This will veto sea-sickness ; 
large saloons will take the place of ocean cells and coffins ; 
luxury, safety and utility will be united, and those who en- 



LIVERPOOL. 15 

joy the combined advantages will look back with surprise 
to the time when a world of one thousand millions of inhab- 
itants were content to make their travel, and conduct their 
exchanges, in little acorns of one thousand tons, many of 
which once spread sheets of cotton goods to catch the chance 
breezes of the ocean as their only means of motion. Already 
I can jecollect when a nine hundred ton merchantman was 
a sight to see, and the remark of Old Tan Reeder, mariner 
of Corlaer's Hook, during my recent stay at Hoboken, is a 
prophecy that lumps the full length of my speculations. 
" Why, sir," said Tan, when I touched him lightly on the 
size of the new steamers, with the design of eliciting his 
practical seaman's views on the subject, " Why, sir, God 
bless your soul, they'll build 'em so big bym-by, they'l not 
be able to get 'em in the harbor." The commander of the 
David C. Broderick was right, and when his prediction comes 
about, the harbor of commerce must be changed. Then 
will the greatness of Tyre and Sidon be surrendered to the 
natural heirs of circumstance and progress. At present, 
however, both New York and Liverpool have reason to be 
satisfied, and they have a right to dispute a destiny which is 
still well away in the future. " Sufficient for the day is the 
evil thereof." 

The town of Liverpool, notwithstanding its newness, is not 
without its fine public buildings, and its showy ornaments. A 
superb monument on the death of Nelson stands in the court- 
yard of an immense pile of buildings which I took to be the 
Exchange, while another, that I set down for the Town Hall, 
was nearly as large as the Capitol at Washington. It will 
be observed that I content myself with surmises on this sub- 
ject, when I might give the actual names of the places ; but 
the reader will recollect that I stated in my first letter I was 
traveling for my own amusement as well as theirs, and as I 



16 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

had but part of a day to improve in this place, I had no 
time to waste in asking questions. Besides, verbal inquiry 
is a habit which I always eschew. Ignorance is never 
respectable ; and as soon as you exhibit your dependence on 
the knowledge of an inferior person, you subject yourself to 
contempt. 1 have thus far been fortunate enough so to ar- 
range it, as to induce others to ask the necessary questions 
for rne. 

One of the public edifices of Liverpool which is really 
worth seeing, and which every one who arrives there and 
goes thence to London, must see, is the Great Western 
Railway Depot. This building occupies an entire square, is 
erected in a very costly style of art, and presents a most 
imposing appearance. A similar building in the State of 
New York, if required for public purposes, would cost some 
half dozen elections, as many indignation meetings, and per- 
haps a breaking up of the Legislature. Here it is quietly 
put up by a stock company as one of the incidents of their 
gigantic enterprise, and nobody considers the matter as an 
event of mark. I went to this depot in the evening of Sun- 
day to take passage for London, tired of my short stay, and 
unwilling, for the mere sake of my baggage, to be detained 
from London, the main object of my Atlantic travel. I 
found the station attended with all the comforts that attach 
to the best hotels, in the shape of refreshment rooms, closets, 
lounges, &c, &c, while on all sides the everlasting police- 
man, who is reproduced at every angle and corner, is ready 
to show you to your seat and protect you from annoyance. 
The cars of this train, and indeed of all the railways of this 
country are separate coaches, each of which hold but six per- 
sons, and all of which are divided kito a first, second, and 
third class set of cars. For a seat in the first class car I 
paid ten dollars twelve and a half cents, which for a journey 



L I VERP00L. 17 

of 201 miles is rather a smart sum. The train started at 
ten minutes to 9 p. m., and was due in London at 5 o'clock 
on the following morning. It set out through a tunnel 
which is said to be over two miles in length, being drawn 
through by an engine stationed at the further end, which 
winds the train towards it by a rope. This method is 
adopted to avoid the stifling effects of running with a smoking 
engine through so long a line of unventilated distance. After 
taking the engine in regular manner, I resolved to compose 
myself with a nap in my cushioned couch, but the tremen- 
dous swiftness at portions of the road, and the continual 
apparitions of policemen, holding lights and crying out "all 
right" along the line, interfered with the composure neces- 
sary to this intention. At length, however, the necessities 
of rest triumphed over all the novelties of my situation, and 
I fell asleep. 

The twilight did not close till half past nine, and I had 
been told the morning broke at half past two. I confess I 
had some misgivings on this subject, bred perhaps out of the 
English origin of the song, "We won't go home till 
Morning," but my doubts were dissipated as I awoke at the 
indicated hour and beheld the faint whiskers of the morning 
breaking up the zenith, as if feeling the road for the actual 
approach of the master of the sky. Some half hour before 
this time, and while we stopped at a station on the road, 
I jumped out with the crowd, and pressed into the refresh- 
ment room to get a cup of coffee. It was like a rush for a 
sweepstakes, and beat any American contest of like char- 
acter I ever saw. The three young women who attended 
at the counter exhibited a marvelous facility at handing out 
cups and cakes and taking in change ; and though they 
exhibited an elegance of dress and manner suited to a draw- 
ing room, they did not seem to notice the rude orders of the 



18 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

crowd with anything like offense. After some three or four 
minutes had elapsed, I stepped forward with "I'll thank you 
for a cup of coffee, Miss," in such a tone as I should have 
used at Taylor's in New York. The elegant creature looked 
at me with surprise, and passed the cup which should have 
come to me to a person who had appeared at that moment 
over my shoulder, and who addressed her roughly with "I 
say, you girl there, 'and me a cup o' coffee, and don't be 
all night about it, look 'ee !" I repeated my order twice 
more without success, as did an American at my elbow, 
when fearing an entire disappointment, I withdrew from the 
counter, and bribed a conductor with a sixpence, who with 
" a cup o' coffee, and be lively, girl!" uttered in a prompt 
tone of command, secured the object for which I had pre- 
viously striven in vain. 

This circumstance opened my eyes to the secret of the 
general neglect which I observed had been exhibited to all 
the Americans who had arrived that morning at the Liverpool 
Hotel. Working people about public establishments are all 
menials in this country. They expect to be ordered. They 
look upon a person who treats them politely with suspicion, 
and regard civility as a confession of inferiority. I noticed 
the effect of this in the demeanor of an inn-keeper at Aig- 
burth, during my Liverpool afternoon excursion, who seemed 
overcome with astonishment when a gentleman who accom- 
panied me ended his order to the bar-maid with "if you 
please, Miss," and was absolutely lost in wonder, when I 
recognized his existence by bidding him "good day," as I 
went out to our barouche. 

At this point, I am half reminded to refer back to the 
great beauty of that drive, and likewise to give credit to 
the superb grounds known as the Prince's Park, in the 
environs of Liverpool. I will let it go by now, however, 



LIVERPOOL. 19 

and content myself with a transcription of a card which 
was fastened on the trees and shrubbery thereof, and which 
would be valuable as a standing admonition in many 
places in the United States. " The Public are expected to 
protect what is intended for the Public benefit," is the lan- 
guage of the notice. 

The daybreak on the road revealed to me the finest coun- 
try my eyes had ever rested on. Until my vision beheld 
that panorama I never had an accurate notion of the per- 
fection of a rural landscape. The hedges, the smooth 
velvet-like fields, the precise formation of the bounds, the 
cleanliness of every bush and tree, the sheep and cattle that 
still nestled in sleep upon the sward, and the clustered cot- 
tages that sheltered the guardians of the range, all made up 
a picture that looked more like a freshly painted panorama 
than a platform of actual earth and life. Between it and the 
face of our own farms, the comparison is vastly against us, 
and until we come to the question as who toils and reaps 
among all this beauty, we are at a very striking disad- 
vantage. Then, however, it is our turn to look up and 
boast. 

Another peculiarity of the scene was the villages, the 
houses of which were composed of brick, and clustered 
singularly close together. They do not stand apart with 
their spacious grounds about them, as do our picturesque 
snow-white cottages, but huddle as closely as if in a city, 
and in some places come down thickly to the very edge of 
one side of the road, without a single stray building finding 
its way on the other side. This, however, may proceed from 
some land regulation in the way of ownership, rather than 
from caprice. 

Another feature of the rail-road is the neat manner in 
which its banks are trimmed and ornamented. There are 



20 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

no naked rifts of sand as with us, but the cuts through the 
land are sodded down and the upper borders neatly bound 
with hedges. This affords a great relief to the eye, and 
accords with the precision and softness of the general land- 
scape. At some of the stations the approach for several 
hundred feet on both sides was allotted to fine flower gar- 
dens, which, as we passed by, were gorgeous with all colors 
and harmonious with birds. At a few minutes to five we 
came within sight of London, and the train stopped for the 
collection of the tickets. We lost some ten minutes in this 
way, but the delay was unavoidable, owing to the train 
being composed of separate carriages, which prevents the 
conductor from going through, as with us, while the train is 
in motion. It is unnecessary to say, that this regulation 
and division is requisite to the English notions of exclusive- 
ness. A friend noticed the politeness of the conductor as a 
favorable relief to the inattention he had observed elsewhere. 
I reminded him, however, that the deference of the man was 
shown entirely to the first-class car, and if he would put his 
head out of the window and watch him to the next division, 
he would observe his smile vanish and his tone fall. I won 
a bottle of wine on the point, having settled which, I arrived 
in London, and at half past five was snugly stowed away in 
a comfortable bed, at the Queen's Hotel, opposite the post- 
office. 



Londox, June 3, 1851. 

Scenes in London — Barbers and Baths — Men, Women and 
Coffee Houses. 

My last letter left me snugly deposited at the Queen's 
Hotel, in London, after the fatigue of an all-night journey, 
dreaming of Whittington and Bow-bells, Wapping Old 
Stairs, and the Princes in the Tower, with an occasional 
notion that I was sailing along in the air, looking in at second 
story windows, and exchanging a nod and a word with 
several of my old acquaintances of Bulwer, Scott, and Smol- 
lett, most of whom seemed to be engaged in the innocent 
pastime of roast beef and cauliflower, or enjoying the lighter 
luxury of shrimps and tea. As for the characters of Dick- 
ens, they literally swarmed the side-walks, and clacked in 
all the thoroughfares ; but they were under my feet. The 
depth of my slumber and its amenability to visions may be 
known by the fact, that though I gave directions to the 
waiter, while he was darkening my chamber against the 
intrusive daylight, to rouse me at nine o'clock, it was ten 
before 1 awoke. My fatigue had either defied his knocking, 
or I had answered him in my sleep, and sent him away with 
the notion that he had performed his office. I had in more 
than one thing neglected mine; so, to redeem my time, 1 



22 EUROPE IN A HURKY. 

turned to the bell-rope at once, and then rolled back in the 
blankets, to indulge in that luxury which the Irish girl 
appreciated so highly — who said she had an excellent place 
and plenty of sleep, only she could not lie awake in the 
morning long enough to enjoy it. 

The bell had hardly done ringing before there came a 
light tap at my door; and, as I turned to give my orders, I 
was surprised to see a young girl enter the room, and 
advance directly to the bedside, with a "what do you wish, 
sir, please ]" I was completely taken aback at this appear- 
ance, and my natural modesty recoiled at least a foot before 
I could recover myself. She was not only very pretty, but 
was certainly not over twenty years of age, and as neat and 
smiling under her smart white cap as if she had just been 
dressed up for a farce. I was at a loss how to answer her ; 
the more at a loss, because my object was to have my boots 
cleaned, and it struck me that was not exactly the kind of a 
commission to entrust to the charge of such a smart and 
smiling girl. 

" Well, Miss," said I, adopting as much circumlocution as 
I could, while I held the coverlets resolutely to my chin, " 1 
wish to know — how I shall manage — to get some one to 
see — that my boots are cleaned." The tidy maid said not 
another word, but dropping a short curtesy, wheeled on her 
heel, grabbed the boots, thrust them under her arm, and 
with another curtesy, which she dropped on the very door 
sill, left me wrapped in silent admiration. In a few minutes 
she returned with a mug of smoking water for shaving pur- 
poses, and having deposited it on the dressing-table, dropped 
another curtesy at my bedside before she went out, with " Is 
there anything else you wish, sir, please?" Of course there 
was nothing else I could possibly want after so much polite- 
ness, so I discharged her, with a nod in the blankets, which 



SCENES IN LONDON. 23 

under the circumstances, I considered the very height of good 
manners. I have since become accustomed to these things, 
and no longer experience surprise at troops of maids swarming 
through the passages of the hotels, or popping into the bed- 
chambers. What effect this system has upon the public 
morals or the public wants, I am not ready to determine, 
but here it may be mentioned, that there does not seem yet 
to have arisen in London a demand for those huge seraglios 
for strangers which abound so largely in New York ; but it 
is also proper to mention that the streets of London show 
more desultory vice. Whether these two circumstances 
have a connection with each other, others may judge. Little 
things exhibit the character of a People, and I shall not reject 
anything from observation that is disposed to exhibit a trait:, 
or that may instruct- those who are to come after me. In 
this view I have noticed everything that has struck me as 
out of line with American habits, and I shall continue to 
exhibit those customs which run apart from ours, as the 
most valuable points of index to a stranger, however trifling 
they may seem. 

To this end I shall here advise all those of us, who have 
heretofore enjoyed the luxury of an American barber shop, 
to provide themselves with shaving materials before coming 
to England. I advise this not only as a matter of comfort, 
but of personal safety, and I further enjoin my friends if they 
have not become accomplished in the use of a razor before 
they start, to acquire it as the most vital branch of English 
education. I very nearly lost my life within four hours after 
my arrival in London, and before I had seen the Great Exhi- 
bition, by my ignorance in this matter. In the first place it 
cost me nearly half an hour's walk and the aid of three 
policemen before I could find a shop, and then, after I had been 
abandoned by the last official, I was helped to it by a small 



24 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

boy, who carried a pitcher of milk in his hand, and who for 
a penny pointed me to a shabby pole up a narrow lane, near 
the famous Paternoster Row. I congratulated myself, how- 
ever, on reading the sign which accompanied the pole, 
that the artist of the establishment was hair-dresser to the 
Queen, and despite the fact that his shop was not larger than 
a cupboard, and divided its space with the claims of a circu- 
lating library, I expected a royal shave. It will be seen 
how the promise of the sign was kept. I was sat in a chair, 
such as are ordinarily used in families, without either arms 
or head-piece, and after being swathed in a towel of suspi- 
cious hue, (the pretentious successor of one which 1 rejected,) 
my head was bent back most painfully, and a swoop made at 
my throat that inspired me with terrors I had never felt before. 
I was determined, however, to keep up the character of my 
country, by abstaining from any evidence of trepidation, so I 
closed my eyes and allowed the harvest to be taken without 
a murmur. But I am ready to confess I thought unut- 
terable things. The barber passed over me but once, lite- 
rally raking me down instead of shaving me, and after the 
lapse of about two minutes from the beginning of his opera- 
tions, he made a low bow and told me I was finished. I did 
not feel disposed to complain that he had not been thorough. 
On the contrary, I was immensely relieved in my feelings 
when he had done, and sprang to my feet with the alacrity 
that might be exhibited by a condemned soul on receiving a 
reprieve from the torture. To the question of " how much," 
I received the answer of " tup-pence please" — the everlast- 
ing please — and very gladly made my escape from the shop. 
On the following day I found a more stylish shop in Cheap- 
side, which had two florid looking wax heads in the window, 
but the chair and the rake down were the same. The only 
difference was, that this latter shop charged, on the score of 



SCENES IN LONDON. 25 

its wax heads and bow-window I suppose, a sixpence, which 
is a shilling of our money. I am inclined to think that a 
few American barbers would do well here. If the English 
could learn the luxury of such a performance as is obtained 
at Ridgeway's, in the Irving House, at Phalon's, or through 
the hands and light razors of our old friend, Monsieur Mal- 
quit, of Hoboken, they would soon abandon the labor and 
inconvenience of twisting and posturing before a glass for 
half an hour every morning. At present nobody shaves 
out, because there is not a barber in England. With the 
facility would grow the taste. Under the present state of 
things, I do not wonder that Americans suffer themselves to 
be covered with hair in this transatlantic region. The sacri- 
fices of keeping a clean nice can scarcely be duly estimated. 
In the matter of bathing I was better served. The baths 
are finer than with us. They are larger ; indeed the great 
square tubs are of double size, and the rooms instead of 
being cells or mangers, are fine airy and spacious chambers. 
The furniture of these chambers is ample, and in the grate 
is at all times the preparation for a fire, which needs but the 
touch of one of the matches that you find lying on your 
dressing table. Contrary to all things else in London, more- 
over, it is cheap. It costs but a shilling for the luxury, 
which is the measure of the price with us — I mean of course 
with us in New York, for I make that my criterion of com- 
parison when speaking of this city. There is one feature 
about the bathing itself, as practiced in this country, that is 
worthy of notice. The inhabitants parboil themselves before 
they consider themselves bathed. The maid who let on the 
scalding flood for me, ran it up to ninety-nine before I 
thought of asking her the temperature. She was still holding 
the thermometer in the tub and waiting for a higher bubble, 
when I arrested her operations, and asked her if she wanted 



26 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

to scald me to death. " We always raise it to blood 'eat, 
sir — please," replied she, as if she was a little surprised at my 
timidity. I wished it cooled down to eighty, but for the 
honor of America I thought I would on this occasion endure 
as much as eighty -five. How far I sunk in her opinion 1 do 
not know, but I could not have endured another degree for 
the price of canonization beside St. Anthony. After this 
discipline I went forth to see the town, in a very pious and 
thankful mood, for having escaped two such imminent perils 
as I have described. 

The first thing 'that struck me in London was the dinginess 
of all its buildings; the next thing the apparent width of all I 
the streets, notwithstanding nearly all are narrow ; the next 
thing the size of animal life on all sides, and the style of 
forms that are given to us in America in the pages of the 
Illustrated JSfeivs. I was inclined to think, before I came 
here, that those latter pictures were, in most part, flattering 
exaggerations of the average human structure, but I find 
that size is the rule w r ith the honio genus here, as well as 
with the cattle of the field. The men and women do not 
exhibit that grace of outline and ease in bearing which the 
pictures give them, but they have the bone and brawn. The 
ladies make no exception to the rule. They have good 
height, fine bulk and beautiful complexions, though some- 
what rough in surface; but they have not the matchless air 
and grace of the American women ; neither have they the 
same taste in dress. The fault of their beauty is a coarse- 
ness of feature and a superabundance of lower face, or what 
a vulgar person would call chops; and they yield, to, or 
affect a lassitude which gives them a baggy and sloven 
appearance. I form these observations on the manners of 
the very best, as exhibited at a party given by a noble lord ; 
as seen in the more enlarged field of the grand stand at 



SCENES IN LONDON. 27 

Ascot, on the aristocratic levee days of the Exhibition, and 
at the annual flower-show of the Fellows of the Royal Hor- 
ticultural Society, to which access is only obtained for 
strangers through their respective Ministers, and which col- 
lects together all the cream of the aristocracy of England. 
Moreover, they have a tendency to en bon point, or fatness, 
which is pleasing only to one sense, though I am free to 
admit that quality to be preferable to thinness, which is 
pleasing to none. Their style of speech, or rather of articu- 
lation, is very peculiar to the ear of an American. They 
mince their words, speaking from the very edge of their 
teeth, and using, through affectation or false habit, as great a 
variety of intonations as there are syllables in their sentences. 
This causes their tone to go continually up and down, and 
when it reaches the ear in connection, imparts the notion of 
a chirp. I have observed this very closely, and my conclu- 
sion is, that the pure well of English pronunciation, will be 
found henceforward, for the supply of the world, in the new 
Continent, and particularly in the cities of Philadelphia and 
New York. The proof that their style of speech here is not 
the true criterion for English pronunciation may be found in 
the fact, that their most famous actors speak the language of 
Shakspeare with the same emphasis and volume which marks 
the language of the well-bred people of New York, and not 
like the London elegantes. The English people, therefore, 
consent to the justice of this criticism, by refusing to tolerate 
in their actors the affectation which they have adopted for 
themselves. Among the poorer classes this affectation is 
still more striking, for it is used without grace, and it is 
aggravated by alliance with the most ridiculous vulgarisms. 
I have been very earnestly complimented by three persons 
who were awful in the management of aspirations, (and 
who used the somethinks and nothinhs by mouthfulls,) upon 



28 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the excellence of my English. Two of these were female 
shopkeepers, who said. " hupon their souls they would 
scarcely take me for a furrinner." 

The dinginess of the buildings in London, to which I have 
alluded, proceeds of course, from the great quantities of 
bituminous coal consumed within its precinct. And it is 
singular, that notwithstanding the soot so soon covers every 
object with a drapery of black, most splendid edifices of 
white marble abound throughout the city and are still put 
up, as if in obstinate provocation of the stain. The color 
does not, however, present a gloomy or other unpleasant 
effect. In a city less relieved by great associations, or less 
enlivened by the continual rush and crush of human 
beings through its streets, the sombre shade might impart 
a gloom, but it seems to be in keeping with the atmosphere, 
and with one's own notions of antiquity. No idea of im- 
provement is therefore suggested to your mind. A great 
reason for your contentment with the streets is perhaps that 
freedom from stoops in the great thoroughfares, which gives 
them their appearance of width, and which makes them at 
all times passable, notwithstanding the crowds that are 
dependent on them for an avenue. In this, the people of 
London have greater civil advantages than the people , f 
New York. The whole of the thoroughfares from the face 
of the building is yielded up to the city, and landed capital 
is not allowed to dig pits out in the side-walks, in the shape 
of cellars, as in Broadway, or to thrust the poor man into 
the cart-road by the arrogance of outside steps. These are 
all encroachments in New York, and the people endure 
them because they have been in the habit of allowing capi- 
tal to do pretty much as it pleases with their rights. It is 
time the thing should be altered. Every man who owns a 
house and lot in New York, can afford to build the stoop 



SCENES IN LONDON. 29 

within its face. By such a plan, even Nassau street would 
be a tolerable thoroughfare. What it is now, I leave the 
intolerable sufferings of the Wall street lawyers and the 
Sunday Press to say. 

Another thing that is good in the streets of London, is 
their freedom from obstructions, and another thing is their 
pavements. They are granite blocks of half the size of 
those of the Russ, are oblong in shape, and laid on a 
Macadamized foundation, with their edges up, as if they 
were large bricks, running in rows across the street, at right 
angles with the side-walk. They are made firm by cement, 
and kept free from ruts, by constant surveillance and prompt 
repair. It is true, they are subject to the objection of slip- 
periness, but this evil is corrected to a certain degree, by a 
drag, or wooden wedge, which is slipped under the hind 
wheels of omnibuses, when they descend anything in the 
shape of a declivity, while large beer-carts, with their mon- 
ster horses, adhere to the plan of hooking one of the wheels 
fast in the old way, which obstruction, aided by the natural 
resistance that lies in the huge feet of the great animals that 
draw them, is enough. I do not intend, in this place, to 
give any description of English dray horses and their quali- 
ties, but I can furnish the reader a notion of their size, by 
stating the fact, that the feet of most of them are as large 
as an ordinary-sized man's head. 

. By the time I had made many of these out-door observa- 
tions, my appetite informed me it was time for dinner, and 
before I had completed that performance, I had discovered 
the fallacy of the reproach, which the English make against 
us for the rapidity with which we dispose of our meals. 
Instead of appearing at a given hour at a general board, the 
English boarder takes his seat at one of the side-tables in a 
large coffee-room, and calls for what he wants. By this 



30 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

means, five or six waiters supply in detail the wants of two 
or three hundred people, who, if they eat at once, could not 
be attended upon by less than fifty. Bi5t there, five or six 
waiters take their time in doing it. It matters not how 
little they are engaged at the moment of receiving your 
order, they make it a point never to serve you with the 
first article under half an hour. A proportionate delay 
takes place between every successive dish, and by the time 
you have traveled through your soup, fish, joint, and dessert 
courses, a full hour and a half has been consumed. An 
Englishman eats what he orders as fast as anybody else, 
but he consumes two-thirds of his time in waiting to get it, 
and what he does not waste in this w r ay, he lengthens out 
by sitting over his ale and wine, after his dinner is devoured. 
Everything moves at a slow and steady rate in this country, 
and nothing moves slower than the waiters at the hotels. 
The attendance of similar persons in the United States is 
entirely different. They object to the term of waiter, but 
in return for their independence and the civility they receive 
at our hands, they serve us with alacrity, and enable us to 
begin our repast in a few minutes after we ask for it. Here, 
fifteen minutes is an ordinary lapse for the appearance of a 
bottle of wine, in response to an order at the commence- 
ment of dinner. There can be no doubt, that slow and 
sure is an old English saying. Subsequent experience, at 
several hotels, has confirmed this observation, and 1 can now 
swear to both ends of the maxim. 



London, June, 1851. 

The Sea of London — Club Houses — United States at the 
World's Fair, 

I thought, before my arrival here, that I, who was born 
amid the noise and clatter of New York, was not to be dis- 
turbed by the bustle of any other place, but I find, in com- 
mon with the companions of my voyage, that the throngs 
of London and the swarms of vehicles, which continually 
tear past you, this way and that, are perfectly bewildering, 
and perplex you in spite of your experience. The contrast 
from the quiet of a voyage, where for days you see but one 
set of objects, is very great, and confused by demands upon 
your observation, you are insensibly inclined, every now 
and then, to make a full stop, in order to realize the fact 
that you are actually in possession of your mind. As I 
walked from that mountain of marble, the old Cathedral of 
St. Paul's, along Ludgate Hill, Fleet street, and the Strand, 
and saw the crowds that pressed by each other, and the 
smaller streams that rushed from side streets and oozed 
from courts and alleys into the great flood where I was 
borne along, I was involuntarily reminded of the stories I 
had read of simple country girls, who, being left desolate in 
heart, had put their little bundles under their arms and set 



32 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

out for London, in the expectation of meeting their faithless 
lovers in the street. I shook my head in posthumous com- 
miseration of their griefs, but while I smiled at the absurdity 
of their hopes, I could not help a sigh as I felt how utterly 
alone they must have been, when they found themselves 
fairly launched amid this vast and restless ocean of unsympa- 
thizing human life. In proportion as a country person in 
America feels impressed with the strangeness and unfriend- 
liness of the world on being thrown amid the crowds of New 
York, so does the metropolitan American feel impressed by 
the immensity of London. The pre-occupation of every 
face, the absolute indifference w 7 ith which the throngs pass 
by, the fact that no one in the multitude is an observer but 
yourself, is heightened in degree of population, and a conclu- 
sion is apt to be formed against the sentiment and sociability 
of the people. I am pleased to be able to state, that impres- 
sions of this kind, in relation to the English people, are 
unjust, and to affirm in their favor a sterling politeness which 
cannot be exceeded by that of any other people in the world. 
This courtesy cannot be exhibited in the streets, nor even in 
the hotels. Grace and benevolence would very often go to 
a bad market, if carried in an open hand amid two millions 
of people. The hauteur which is observable in the bearing 
of an Englishman, proceeds partly from the separation of 
classes, and partly from the settled impression that England 
and the English people are better than those of any other 
land or race. But once let an Englishman become per- 
suaded that you are worthy of his acquaintance, no one can 
exceed him in politeness, and no one equal him in substan- 
tial attention. He has reduced hospitality to a science, and 
takes as much pains to render you happy, as he feels pride 
in himself. After all, then, an Englishman is not so una mi- 
able as he seems. He is pardonable for pride in a country 



LONDON. 



and a race, which has been great in every battle-field and 
council since the dominion of the Caesars, and whose present 
strength far exceeds the power and fame of ancient Rome. 
He has a right to love such a country, even to the verge of 
conceit ; and when you notice his self-complacent smile as 
he speaks of England and things English, you should think 
of the pride you have in your own land, and reflect that both 
he and you belong to nations which you cannot help being 
proud of, and which it is impossible to forget. Above all, 
treat him well when he is with you, for I have become 
assured, (despite of my impressions derived from the inci- 
vility of the revenue officers at Liverpool,) that among all 
foreigners, Americans are regarded here with the highest 
favor, and any prejudice that may have once -existed against 
us, has entirely faded away. 

Among the other things which strike a stranger, besides 
the buzz and throng and clatter of the streets, are the pecu- 
liarities which are picked out of the bustle, and which press 
themselves upon you from every side. The first of these 
may be said to be the great size and elaborate architecture 
of the houses, the abundance of great buildings and costly 
and ancient looking edifices, and the beauty of the shop 
windows, as well in that much misrepresented street, the 
Strand, as in Regent and Oxford-streets, Piccadilly and Pall 
Mall. I was at a loss at first how to account for this multi- 
plicity of grandeur, as the extent of these buildings seemed 
only adapted to the requirements of government, but inquiry 
proved them to be costly club-houses, the edifices of 
assurance companies, of boards of merchants, and now and 
then the discarded palace of some noble who had resigned 
his choked ancestral halls to the new demands of trade. 
Among the finest of these buildings are those used as club- 
houses, to afford a notion of the extravagance of which, I 



o4 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

will here state in passing, that one, to which I was intro- 
duced, cost six hundred thousand dollars to build, and its 
secretary receives a salary of three thousand dollars a year. 
The best of these establishments are in Pall Mall, but they 
are sprinkled through the West End, and are the ornaments 
of every neighborhood where they are reared. The shop 
windows, as a general rule, exceed in beauty, in arrange- 
ment, and in size, those of New York, but the stores behind 
them are smaller, though equally tastefully dressed out. 
There are some, of course, which are very spacious, but 
there are none which equal in size or grandeur that of Stew- 
art's, in Broadway. Neither have they any street which as 
a promenade equals Broadway. Regent-street is finer as a 
street, and its magnificent rows of buildings sweep away 
from the eye in a majestic curve, like an improved edition 
of the Coliseum, but it has not the bizarre and sparkling line 
of promenaders to enliven it, which is always to be found in 
Broadway, and it is not beautified by those slippered angels 
who make holiday of every shiny hour on our great parade. 
The ladies here do not walk abroad, they swarm to the shops 
of Regent and Oxford streets in their coaches, and when 
they move for pleasure, they ride in state through Hyde 
Park. The side-walks are resigned to business, and to pre- 
occupied pedestrians ; the parks are devoted to pleasure and 
the amusement of the idle mind. We have nothing like 
the latter, and their vast extent defeats from us the hope of 
imitation. 

In the way of street panorama, the omnibuses, and a 
new style of high-wheeled gig, called a Patent Safety, with 
doors of half glass to close you in in front, when it rains, 
and the common cabs, are the most prominent objects. The 
omnibuses differ from ours by having seats upon the roof, 
which usually are filled first, in preference to the inside ; 



LONDON. 85 

a just discrimination when it is known that there are no 
front windows next the driver's seat fur ventilation, and no 
means of stopping the vehicle if you get far into its depths, 
but by staggering between the knees of fidgety women and 
sour-looking old men, in the hope of being able to seize the 
conductor's arm at the door. These vehicles carry nine on 
the outside and ten in, being restricted to that number on 
pain of fine. The charge for distances of three miles or 
thereabouts, is fourpence, (eight cents,) but the gigs, (or 
Patent Safetys, as they are called,) and cabs, get as much 
out of you as they can. Their legal fare is eightpence the 
first mile, and fourpence for every additional half mile, but 
they usually double this rate on a stranger, whom they 
detect with an unfailing instinct. This extortion should 
always be resisted, not only on account of its injustice, but 
because it is accompanied by no consolation. In the United 
States, and some other places, there is a certain pleasure in 
being robbed, for a man who submits easily, is looked upon 
as a liberal and clever fellow ; but here, if you stand impo- 
sition, you are made the joke of the cab-stand as being 
"jolly green," and your plunderer receives as much credit 
from his vulgar compeers for having cheated yon, as one 
of the ancient people of Moses used to receive, for a suc- 
cessful prosecution of the national oath to spoil the Egyp- 
tians. With this kind of persons, the name of stranger is 
victim. The public vehicles of this kind are in great num- 
ber. I have noticed omnibuses that were numbered beyond 
eight thousand, but owing to various reasons, I am not 
prepared to be exact in that kind of knowledge. Indeed, I 
find great difficulty in attending to the demands that are 
made upon my eyes alone, and however strange it may 
seem to those who know my business habits, I am forced to 
confess that it is with the utmost difficulty I can find time 



36 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

to write these letters. All of my friends here, experience 
the same difficulty. The fact is, that London is dressed 
up to receive company. The genius, the talent, the art, and 
science of the world are here ; all doors are thrown open, 
the exhibitions, private galleries, curiosities, and invitations 
to dinner, tempt you by day ; the opera, theatres, gardens, 
conversaziones, and masquerades, invite you at night; and 
if you seek to make a retreat to your own chamber, to hold 
converse with a sheet of paper for an hour, a lot of enthu- 
siastic friends will have you hunted out, and charged as a 
deserter, for not being on hand to go with the rest of 
your party through some new series of the % London sights. 
Away then you go to wade amid floods of gas light in lav- 
ender attire, or grope in sweating caverns through an array 
of beastly visages, as a preliminary to a late pillow and a 
leaden brain on the following morning. No one is exempt 
from this routine ; from the greater part of it no one desires 
to be exempt, but whatever be your fancy, it is a test of 
courage and endurance to keep up, and a proof of general- 
ship or desperation to retire. My common refuge, when 
driven to extremity for reflection and repose, has been an 
escape to Westminster Abbey, or St. James Park, or a 
solitary drive through some remote quarter of the town. 

I have, thus far, purposely avoided speaking of the Great 
Exhibition, not because it falls short, but because it exceeds 
all my calculations of its grandeur. Down to this time, I 
have paid it four visits, but am still at a loss where to begin 
in its description, or how to impart an adequate idea of its 
magnificence. All ordinary spectacles of splendor which 
help the mind towards comparison, halt upon the threshold, 
and leave the mere reader of the thoughts of others, where 
stands the unassisted gazer at the stars, to him whose instru- 
ments enable him to approach the planets and unfold the 



LONDON. 37 

hidden beauty of the heavens. No one has described it 
yet. As yet no one has entirely seen it. So great are its 
attractions, that Royalty itself has left its palaces, to bask 
in this more gorgeous atmosphere for three days since its 
opening. The regalia and great jewels of the realm amount 
in value to three millions of pounds ; the decorations of this 
glittering structure are estimated at more than twenty mil- 
lions. Well may the Queen leave Buckingham Palace, and 
covet a partial residence amid such regal wealth ; and well 
may she feel a new pleasure in walking, as the patroness of 
nations, amid those emblems which are the pith of every 
nations' pride and power ! A film of acres, built of walls 
of light, filled with flowers and fountains, with jewels spark- 
ling on this side ; the richest fabrics unrolled on that ; and 
thousands lounging through its perfumed atmosphere, dizzy 
with wonder and delight, is not a scene for even Majesty 
to underrate ! But the wand of Harlequin does not seem 
to have touched our end. We have been very much ridi- 
culed for this, and the unpleasant reproach comes with the 
more point, as we are under the observation of all the 
nations of the earth. It is a poor introduction to the plan 
of getting up a World's Fair at New York, and I very much 
fear that it will be the general impression of those who have 
beheld the shabbiness of our department here, that a nation, 
which exhibits so much indifference to the arts, is not deserv- 
ing of the profit of opening a caravanserai for the world. I 
have made what excuse I could for our neglect, and have 
had the satisfaction of being generally successful. I have- 
represented the difference in contiguity between us and 
other nations ; and reminded the objectors, of the great dis- 
tance which some of our most valuable machines and fabrics 
must travel, before they even reach the sea-board for 
embarkation on an ocean journey of three thousand miles. 



38 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

I have made them add to this the expense of the transporta- 
tion, as well for the exhibitor, as the goods, and take into 
consideration at the same time, the fact, that the American 
exhibitor cannot have those advantages of advertising which 
the Frenchmen, the German, and the Swiss, whose shops 
are near at hand for the reception of orders, can derive out 
of the Fair. With this, we have excuse enough. 

But there is one further consideration, which perhaps, has 
largely affected the success of our portion of the Exhibition. 
Americans are chiefly great in machinery, but owing to the 
apprehension which continually haunts them, of having 
their inventions stolen or pirated, which apprehension is the 
natural result of our defective patent laws, they have 
refrained from risking the creations of their brain before the 
curious eyes of all mankind. This consideration has had 
weight even with me, and has prevented me from bringing 
to the Fair a model piece of ordnance, or steady ship gun, 
that has been under construction, through my aid and means, 
during the last two years, and is intended for the use of the 
United States. There is nothing like it in all the ordnance 
at the Exhibition, and though it would have afforded me 
pleasure to have produced it for the admiration of a world 
which still finds the great gun a simple iron log with a hole 
bored in it, I am content with having allowed it to remain 
at home. I have no doubt a similar motive has weighed 
with many others. 

The Exhibition, though it has quite come up to the most 
sanguine expectations of everybody, has not been satisfac- 
tory in all its results. It has been thronged with visitors at 
high prices and at low ; it has received sixty thousand people 
a day, and taken in fifty thousand dollars between morning 
and evening. It has already overpaid its expenses, and even 
now, in the fifth week of its existence, it averages an income 



LONDON. 39 

of from ten to fifteen thousand dollars a day ; but while it 
does all this for itself, it acts as the monster which drank up 
the rivers, and condemned those who lived adjacent to the 
streams to perish of thirst and starvation. The vast amount 
of money it has devoured, has been drawn, to a great extent, 
from the other avenues of expenditure, and the London 
tradesmen are actually at a stand-still for want of pur- 
chasers ; the theatres are all declining, while exhibitions of 
every description are so meagerly attended, that very few 
of them can pay their expenses. Some of the papers speak 
of this state of things as absolutely disastrous, and speculate 
upon the ultimate consequences of such a continued drain, in 
the most gloomy spirit. 

Paris will, after all, it seems to me, get the great harvest 
of this exhibition. Nearly all the strangers who visit Lon- 
don must either come through, or will go to it, and they 
will reserve the chief of their expenditures for that place. 
That will certainly be the course of Americans, and in my 
view it is a deserved retaliation for the shameful manner in 
which strangers are overcharged in this place. Though I am 
by myself, I am living at the rate of four hundred dollars a 
month. The only things which thrive here now, beside the 
exhibition, are the hotels, the cabs, and the opera. The 
opera, however, could not fail to be attractive, though two 
Great Exhibitions were open, and though it were two guineas 
a ticket instead of one. All the great talent of the world is 
here in this line, with the exception of Jenny Lind. Think 
of my seeing the opera of Don Giovanni at the Covent Gar- 
den Theatre, at a performance graced by the Queen and the 
most brilliant aristocracy, in which Mesdames Grisi, Castel- 
lan, Bertrandi, Signori Mario, the great tenor Formes, the 
great basso, Tamburini, and Taliafico, appeared; and think 
also of Don Pasquale at the Royal Opera, Hay market, in 



40 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

which Sontag, Cruvelli, La Blache, Collett, and Calsolari, 
appeared, followed by a ballet, distinguished by Carlotti 
Giisi, Amelia Ferraris, and Mons. Charles, as the principal 
performers. When I add to this the names of Miss Catha- 
rine Hayes, the beautiful Irish cantatrice, Madame Rachel, 
the great French tragedienne, Caroline Duprez, Mesdames 
Fiorentini, Ugalde, Guilieni, Ida Bertrand, Miss Harriet 
Cawse, Miss Louisa Pyne, with Signori Mazzol, Cassanova, 
Lorenzi, Ferranti, Scapini, Blanchi, Stigalli, and Sims Reeves, 
who may be seen alternately in the various musical estab- 
lishments, I think I will have made up a very fair musical 
constellation. 

London is full of Americans at present, and I am con- 
stantly meeting with faces that I have been in the habit of 
confronting in Broadway, Nassau-street, and the City Hall. 
Of course I am kept busy ; but to furnish an idea of the 
demands upon my time, and my improvement of it, as well 
as to give a notion of the wonders of this modern Babylon, 
I will conclude this letter by stating, that in the two weeks 
I have spent here I have visited the Exhibition four times, 
been at both houses of Parliament, made three examinations 
of Westminster Abbey, mounted to the top of St. Paul's, 
walked through the Tunnel, the Tower, the British Museum, 
the Zoological Gardens, the famous Barclay & Perkins 
Brewhouse on the Thames, Madame Tussaud's exhibition of 
Wax-work, seen a Grand Review by the Duke of Welling- 
ton and the Marquis of Anglesea, at Woolwich, visited the 
palace of the Duke of Northumberland, the National Gallery 
of Paintings, and had an afternoon's drive in Hyde Park. I 
have also seen the Queen and Prince Albert, and been to 
the Ascot Races. I have visited the famous chop-houses, 
where I have eat turbot, whitebait, sole, whiting, prawns, 
and the mammoth crabs. Lastly, I have visited the Bow- 



LONDON. 



41 



street and principal police stations ; the Pentonville and Mil- 
bank prisons, Guildhall and the Bank ; both Opera Houses, 
the Hay market Theatre, the Lyceum of Mathews and Mad. 
Vestris, old Drury Lane, the Princess', kept by Mr. and 
Mrs. Kean, Sadler's Wells, and Punch's Playhouse, in the 
Strand. Add to those Vauxhall and Cremorne Gardens, 
with a masquerade thrown in, and I think I have given a 
pretty liberal list of occupations. Three dinners out, and, an 
evening spent at a conversazione of the National Society of 
Arts, winds up the routine. Towards much of this amuse- 
ment I have been materially assisted by the kindness of Mr. 
Lawrence, the American Minister, and his son, Mr. T. Bige- 
low Lawrence, who have politely furnished me with intro- 
ductions and tickets of entree to the most notable places in 
London. At my further leisure, I will give a description of 
the principal features of those places. 



London, June, 1851. 

London Police — Pentonville, Milbank, and Newgate Prisons. 

Since ray last letter I have taken an opportunity to call 
on Mr. Mayne, the Chief of Police for this city, and 
through his politeness, have not only obtained an insight 
into the system of which he is the head, but had facilities 
afforded me and my friends for visiting the prisons and police 
stations, and for protection through the dangerous localities 
of London, which are not usually extended to those who are 
actuated by mere curiosity. The full result of all the 
observations which I have thus been enabled to make on 
the most important branch of the domestic government of a 
great people, I do not propose to give in the course of a 
hasty letter ; but I shall reserve the philosophy of the sub- 
ject for a deliberate occasion, when I return home, stopping 
now only to give those leading features which chiefly distin- 
guish it, and which mark its general usefulness. The police 
department, of what strangers know as London, is, regularly, 
about six thousand men. Of these, nine hundred belong in 
the city proper, and are under the jurisdiction of the Lord 
Mayor, and the remaining five thousand are for^the vast 
overflow outside of Temple Bar and its demarkments, which 



LONDON POLICE. 43 

are under the jurisdiction of the Superintendent, Mr. Mayne. 
The uniform of these two bodies differs ; the large force hav- 
ing their number worked in silver on their standing coat 
collars, and the Mayor's force wearing an embroidery of 
gold. The regulations of the two sections, however, do not 
differ in any material point of discipline, and both exhibit a 
patient attention to their duties which might be emulated 
with profit by many of the careless and conceited depart- 
ment of New York. A policeman here never attempts to be 
above his business. He is always to be found at his post ; 
he is prompt and resolute ; his uniform, which is never laid 
aside when on duty, is a continual promise of safety to the 
street passenger, and he, instead of presuming on the large 
and peremptory power of arrest and street regulation with 
which he is armed, in the way of insolence, is the most civil 
and urbane person you can find out of doors. He seems to 
understand his position in its true sense, and acts not only 
as the protector of the people within his beat, but as their 
friend. Under no provocation have I ever seen one lose his 
temper, and I have on several occasions beheld one break 
into a crowd to act as an umpire in a quarrel, and direct com- 
batants to go home, who in the hands of our force would 
have been dragged to the station-house to subject the city to 
the costs of an idle prosecution. The secret of this differ- 
ence in demeanor is, as I said before, that the London 
policeman regards himself as the servant of the public, and 
not its out-door master. A further reason is, that he is not 
corrupted from his regular routine of duty by a pernicious 
system of rewards for special service, as with us. There are 
forty detectives, to whom the work of special service and 
pursuit is allotted, and temptation for great jobs and large 
rewards being thus sluiced off into a certain channel, the 
mass of the force works out its daily task, never dreaming 



44 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of a windfall out of the line of their salaries. This excellent 
state of things, was sought for by the People of New York 
in the establishment of a salaried police, but through the 
intrigues of the old stool-pigeon officers, whose speculations 
and corruptions had provoked the change, a clause was 
inserted in the new bill, providing that in cases of special 
service, the policemen might, by permission of the Mayor, be 
allowed to receive an extra reward. This clause was taken in 
band by the first Chief under the new system, who, being favor- 
able to the reward system and the old regime, used his 
influence upon Mayor aftar Mayor, to permit rewards in an 
extending variety of cases, until the permission became 
recognized as a right of the officer. Indeed, I was once told 
by Mayor Woodhuil, that in applications of officers for 
permission to receive rewards, he never considered anything 
but the bare question, whether the party was willing to pay. 
The result was, that all sorts of intrigues were set on foot to 
create business, and the regular salary was, and is, regarded* 
merely as a stand-by to provide against regular wants, 
while the officer devotes himself entirely to speculation. 
The regular routine of his duty is sacrificed on all occasions 
to this aim, and very little is done by a New York officer, 
except with a view to private profit. The majority of the 
arrests that are made is generally undertaken through 
caprice, or done with the view of locking up customers for 
some pettifogger, who will divide a fee with him in the 
morning. The London policeman is not actuated by any 
such motives ; he performs his duty steadily and patiently, 
and the public are served instead of being abused. The 
scandal of night descents to terrorize frail women to flexible 
subjection, or to bleed them of their trinkets through the 
ringers of conspiring bail-masters and prison-lawyers, is 
consequently here entirely unknown. Cognizance is taken 



LONDON POLICE. 45 

only of positive infractions. All who refrain from invading 
the rights of others go their ways. 

The London police have no concern in lighting the streets 
as with us, but have full charge of the conduct of omnibuses, 
hacks, and cabs. The Chief of Police grants their licenses, 
and the men govern them in the streets. Complaints 
against them are heard by Commissioners. Previous to 
the establishment of the present system of police, the 
Strand and Fleet-street were sometimes wedged with 
vehicles, and impassable for hours ; but now there is no 
difficulty, for the finger of the policemen, who stand much 
of the time in the very centre of the street, directs the 
driver to pull this way and that, and the crammed thorough- 
I fare is continually in motion, like two huge serpents, 
squirming by into each others folds. Whenever there is 
danger of a jam, the policeman sees the approaching crisis, 
and warns it off in advance. In this .way particularly, is a 
stranger struck with his usefulness, though in every way, 
his conduct makes a good impression. I have not seen an 
American in London who does not agree with me, in the 
views I now express of the police, and they are unanimous, 
too, in the opinion, that the force with us should be obliged 
to wear uniforms when on duty, and made attentive to 
routine by a discontinuance of our demoralizing system of 
rewards. The pay of policemen here, varies from sixteen 
shillings to two guineas per week, the latter sum being 
allowed to small officers and the forty detectives. The 
salary of the Chief of Police is £1,500, or $7,500 a year. 
This makes, with incidentals, the current annual expense of 
the London police amount to two millions of dollars ; a sum 
below its revenue by some thousands of dollars. This 
amount, however, is raised by special tax, so there is 
nothing to boast of in that feature over ours, and by com- 



46 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

parison, the expense will be found to be very nearly the 
same pro rata. At this point, it is not improper to direct the 
attention of the reader to the fact, that the number of the 
London police amounts, as it stands now augmented, (to 
6,900) on account of the exigencies of the Great Exhibition, 
a number nearly equal to the entire standing army of the 
United States, which protects a country that spreads from 
the Atlantic to the Pacific. Policemen are not eligible for 
appointment after thirty, but once in the department, they 
remain during good behavior, with a pension contingent on 
superannuation. This, doubtless, is a strong incentive to 
fidelity and vigilance, but the inducement may be supplied 
with us, and in a stronger way, by allotting the amounts of 
all public rewards that are earned, to a fund for widows and 
orphans of policemen, with a mark of honor for every man 
contributing to the fund, that may stand him in hand for 
advancement, either from his constituents or an appointing 
power. The incentive to special vigilance is then direct and 
prompt, and the corrupting speculations of the reward 
system ended. 

The London force is distributed about in station-houses, 
over which an Inspector presides, who answer to our Cap- 
tains, and old Captains of the watch. Here, Inspectors 
receive the prisoners who are brought in, hear their cases, 
and either commit the party to the cells till morning, or 
discharge him at once. They have a prerogative, however, 
beyond that of our Captains, for they can take bail till 
morning. This brings that beneficent provision of the law 
which presumes a man to be innocent until he is proven 
guilty, down to the low r est workings of the system, and 
gives a liberal magistrate a resource against the absolute 
oath of some vicious complainant. The amount of bail 
taken in these small night cases varies, as I was informed 






LONDON POLICE. 47 

by the Inspector at the Bow-street station, from five to ten 
pounds. I found this officer a very intelligent man, and to 
his politeness I am indebted for an examination of the 
station in all its departments, even at the expense of an 
interruption of his business. By this examination, I found 
the stations to be not only rendezvous, but hotels, where 
the men not only lodged, but fed ; with the exception of the 
married members of the detachment, who of course, live 
hard by, and very much of course, go home to their wives. 
Below stairs, and under the lock-up cells, are a range of 
kitchens, a wash-room, and a room for cleaning shoes and 
brushing clothes ; and next to these are two mess-rooms 
with bright tins, neat earthen ware, and jovial looking fire- 
places, for the men to eat by. Up-stairs, and above the 
cells, are the sleeping chambers, containing only four or five 
beds each, in the centre of which, and in the second story, 
is a common reading-room, where the men may smoke, and 
read, and chat. Their term of duty is twelve hours on, and 
twelve oiT, so they can spend many comfortable hours 
in the conversation room if they choose. The policemen 
are drilled with the broadsword for the emergencies of riots, 
so it will be seen that if only armed with a short staff, they 
are, when mounted, a very formidable body. As it is, the 
regular force of mounted policemen, which has been made 
to sound so large in New York, by those who wish to intro- 
duce the feature there, is only forty. These are sent to one 
part of the city and another, at the direction of the Superin- 
tendent, and frequently are made use of in leaving messages. 
They are never used as was tried with us, to ride down 
apple women and flying children, in order to clear the streets 
for public processions, for no processions go through the 
streets here, as the crowds in the thoroughfares confine such 
displays to the parks. Altogether, the system of police is 



48 EUROPE IN A HURKT. 

an excellent one, and under its vigilant supervision, there 
are no places in London where a passer-by would not be 
safe at noon-day, which was not the case only a few years 
ago. 

On the morning after my visit to the station houses, I 
visited the Bow-street police office, where I found Mr. Hard- 
wick (who has recently made himself famous by an instance 
of firm justice against one of the aristocracy) on the bench, 
and where I also met the editor of the London Police Gazette. 
By permission of the Justice, my friends and myself were 
admitted within the bar, and we sat down to observe the 
routine of business. I was struck at once with the peculiar 
quiet and decorum which prevailed. There was none of that 
buzz and shuffling in the outer circle, nor mixture of foul 
smells that pervade the police courts of New York, when 
the cases of over night prisoners are being heard. The magis- 
trate sits quietly on his seat out of the way of approach ; the 
clerk sits under him, in front; the complainant or police- 
man tells his story from a box which he enters, near the 
bench, while the prisoner stands by himself in another and 
distinct part of the room. But one prisoner is brought into 
the court-room at a time, and when he is disposed of, another 
is summoned to appear. There is consequently no confu- 
sion, and never that orchestra of howls from the crowd of 
noisy, half-drunken creatures, who usually make up our 
morning magisterial serenade. The police subjects here are 
quite as bad as with us ; but when they enter they are awed 
into decorum, and they have no chance to make an approach 
to familiarity with the magistrate by even receiving his 
questions ; for an officer at the prisoner's elbow asks the pri- 
soner's age, name, and business, and the magistrate only asks 
him the single interrogation of what he has to answer to the 
complainant's story. In this way a number of cases were 



LONDON POLICE. 



49 



disposed of in the twenty minutes we sat there, and there 
was not one of them of which the substantial justice was not 
apparent. 

Law is administered in this country with exactitude upon 
all classes, indiscriminately, and this is the true secret of 
English loyalty. We boast of equality. We have it partly 
at the polls, and in some other places, but where we want it 
most, we have it least. The instant we approach the courts 
we find the oil of influence and wealth smoothing the turbu- 
lence of the waters, while poverty drives to the shore, or 
founders in a vast sea of indifference as to its condition. In 
England the judge does not see the habiliments or know the 
station of the culprit who is brought before him ; he sees 
and knows only the charge and the proofs, and so fixed is 
his character and so inflexible his administration, that no 
undue intercession is ever attempted with him. The case 
of Paulet Henry Somerset, an aristocratic Captain in the 
Guards and heir presumptive to a peerage, is a striking 
instance. The noble Captain was driving his phaeton up the 
carriage road towards the Exhibition, through which the 
police had been directed none should pass. He was sum- 
moned by a policeman to turn back. The captain took no 
notice of the signal, whereupon the j)olieeman ran up and 
acquainted him in special terms with the order ; but the 
Captain only whipped up his horses in reply. The police- 
man then took hold of the reins, upon which the gallant 
Captain, in aristocratic indignation at this interference, lashed 
him with his whip, and succeeded in breaking away; but he 
was caught by a policeman further on, and taken into cus- 
tody. On the following morning he was brought before Mr. 
Hardwick, who after hearing the case, sentenced the offender 
to the House of Correction for ten days. The aristocrat was 
thunderstruck ; he asked the magistrate if he was not mis- 



3 



50 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

taken ; entreated him to consider his station in society and 
the position of his family, and concluded with a prayer to 
be allowed to pay a fine. The magistrate replied that he 
would make no alteration in his decision; the defendant, 
from his position should have set an example of obedience 
to those in authority, and a fine easily paid was a mere 
mockery of the law. Captain Paulet Henry Somerset was 
consequently taken to the House of Correction, and forced 
to wear the convict livery ,and undergo the prison discipline, 
and though a hundred and thirty noble families united in 
application to Sir C. Grey, the Secretary of the Home 
Department, for the remission of the sentence, the noble 
Captain served his time out. This is very good, but it is 
not perfect without contrast. 

A few days afterwards a coachman was driving his mas- 
ter's brougham furiously along the same road, when the 
policemen signalled him to stop ; but he drove on, and when 
seized, used the whip on the policeman in the style of the 
noble Somerset. His excuse, when brought to the police- 
court, was, that his master had ordered him to be at the 
Exhibition at five o'clock, and he did not dare to be behind- 
hand. The magistrate told him that the orders of the law 
were paramount to those of his master, but inasmuch as he 
was an ignorant person, and had a sort of palliation in his 
supposed duty to his master, he would sentence him to the 
House of Correction for seven days. We venture nothing 
when we state that such an adjudication could not be had in 
the United States. Captain Paulet Henry Somerset, or any 
man in his station, would have been certain to have worked 
out of his danger, and the coachman, unless he happened to 
be famous in his election district, would have caught the 
larger term. It is a melancholy fact that our courts are in 
an abominable condition, and a man has as much chance of 



LOND ON P OLICE. 51 

justice who goes into them armed with right alone, as an inex- 
perienced youth has who plays cards with a party of professed 
sharpers. All sorts of influences can be brought to bear ; 
all sorts of license is tolerated. I have seen, in New York, 
a felon on trial for the highest offense known to the law this 
side of murder, receive an exchange of bows and a polite 
shake of the hand from an Attorney General in face of the 
jury which were to try him ; and I have known money to be 
left with a judge, by those in the interest of the defendant, 
during the trial of a case. Nay, so far does indifference and 
indelicacy upon this subject extend, that very lately a wretch, 
infamous for his numerous crimes, was not even prosecuted 
for attempting to bribe the chief judge of the Supreme Court 
of the City of New York, by money in a letter. A nolle 
prosequi was entered in the case, though the proof was per- 
fect, and justice, which had been struggling to vindicate her- 
self against this criminal in many other cases, went by the 
board. Will any one prejbend to say that such an attempt 
would have been passed over in any court in this country ? 
Far from it ; every man in the community would have felt 
that the conviction of such a criminal was a matter of com- 
mon interest, and unless the 4a w were strictly pressed against 
him, and the purity of the courts vindicated from the impu- 
tation of such an overture, I doubt if any man would have 
felt exactly safe. Certain it is, that the People would not 
have been content. 

The administration of the law here is pure and signal ; 
with us it is partial and loose. Wealth may defy all its 
powers in New York ; and turn all its terrors upon the wit- 
nesses who come against it, but Poverty must walk with its 
hands outspread, or it trips and is trampled down in an 
instant. This loose, this appalling state of things has 
become notorious among us ; while equal and exact adjudi- 



52 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

cation to all men is as well established here. Should we, 
then, who make equality the text of our national religion, 
wonder that the English are a loyal people ? The only 
way in which the poor feel government, and know what it 
is, is through the action of the criminal courts. If that 
action is unequal, they distrust the government which per- 
mits it ; but when they see it administered with the same 
exactitude upon the noble and the laborer, they feel a prac- 
tical equality which they can understand, and they dread 
any change which may deprive them of its guarantees. Let 
the people of the United States, look a little more closely 
to the action of their criminal courts ; let them take mea- 
sures to curb that shocking license which delivers an honest 
man, who takes the witnesses' stand, from abuse by profli- 
gate attorneys, and deny to such persons the privilege to 
become confederates of the thieves they defend, because 
they have taken a fee. Under the license which exists at 
present, it is worse to be a witness than to be the prisoner 
in the box. I have seen men of the most blameless lives, 
tremble like children at the prospect of going to testify 
before a court, and prosecuting attorneys, consequently, find 
the greatest difficulty in getting, their cases in order. The 
fault of this state of things lies in the judges, who permit 
questions to be asked which are entirely irrelevant to the 
case at issue, and which are put merely for the purpose of 
distressing a witness, and forcing him to bring himself into 
discredit. The witness is tried and not the prisoner, and so 
long as the public, who furnish the witnesses, endure this 
state of things, so long will our country be without that 
justice which is the type of equality, and the very founda- 
tion of all safety in every good government. 

After the visit to Bow-street, which has led to these 
remarks, my friends and myself drove to the Pentonville 



THE PENTONVILLE PRISON. 53 

Model Prison, and from thence to the celebrated Millbank 
Penitentiary. Neither of these prisons are used for the full 
terms of their inmates, but they are probationary establish- 
ments, devoted to the temporary reception and discipline of 
felons who have been convicted to transportation. From 
these places, after two or three years' stay, they are* sent to 
the hulks or dock-yards, where their labor is excessively 
severe, and from thence, if they have deported themselves 
well, they get a ticket of leave for some colony in the South 
Seas. If they are refractory in the docks, they are returned 
back to the prisons, and from thence transported to Norfolk 
Island, the most cheerless and severe of all the penal colo- 
nies. The Pentonville establishment was got up, as its 
name betokens, as a model prison, and it is built in a most 
convenient style for the purposes to which it is devoted. 

From the centre of the building, where you enter, five 
aisles branch off in rays, as from the centre of a half circle. 
In the centre or the knot of this half rosette or fan, is placed 
a keeper, who looks down all the aisles at the same time, 
from a jutting bow-window erected in the second tier for 
that purpose. Each tier, of which there are three, and each 
section, of which there are fifteen, has a special keeper ; but 
the man in the centre overlooks them all. In the cells, 
which are very clean, and very finely arranged with windows 
that look out to heaven, instead of upon gloomy inner 
passages, as in most of our prisons, the men pursue their 
regular trades, and perform in solitude the labor which is 
the penalty of crime. An hour a day is allowed each of 
them for exercise, and for this purpose they are taken into 
the grounds, where there are three huge rosettes of brick 
and mortar, divided into wedge-shaped yards, each with an 
iron gate, where the prisoner paces or runs up and down, as 
suits his humor, like a tiger in a show. Each of these 



54 EUROPE IN A HURRY, 

rosettes contains twenty yards, and to prevent the possibil- 
ity of conversation, a keeper in a central tower, a little 
higher than the radiating walls, watches the motions of his 
beasts. The yards are open to the weather, but a small 
portion of the gores are roofed, to give the animals retreat 
in case of storm — a very necessary precaution, as it rains 
in this country half the time. 

The prison contains about eight hundred convicts, and 
sixty may be exercised at a time. They never see one an- 
other's faces, and even when, for convenience, in turning 
them in and out of a line of cells for attendance at chapel 
or at school, they proceed in file, they are obliged to keep 
some ten feet apart, and the cloth front of their caps is so 
cut that it drops over the face and conceals it to the chin, in 
the style of a mask. They look through tw r o small round 
holes cut in the cloth, and even through this can only see 
the back of the man who goes before. No danger here, 
therefore, of conspiracy, correspondence, or revolt. They 
go to school every day for two hours, and those who have 
no trade are instructed in one. Their food is abundant, and 
prepared in a clean and tolerable manner. It is cooked in a 
range of kitchens under the main floor, and served out in 
small tubs which are sent up in large trays through a trap 
or dumb waiter, by machinery, to each tier. The trays are 
then lifted off the dumb waiter and laid upon a railway 
which spans the shining rails of the two sides of the corridor, 
and this is easily shoved along by a man on each side, who 
hands out a bucket of food as he arrives opposite each door 
upon his tier. In this way much labor is saved, and the 
ceremony soon despatched. 

Connected with this branch of duty is a feature worthy 
of mention, and which every motive of philanthropy, as well 
as policy, requires should at once be adopted in our prisons. 



THE MILLBANK PRISON. 



55 



All who know anything of prison discipline, have become 
acquainted with the horrible results of self-abuse among 
male prisoners, and know, too, that all ingenuity has been 
exhausted, in the way of stocks, shower-bath, spiked-gloves, 
&c, for discouraging the desolate convict from taking refuge 
from his misery in intoxicating illusions of past pleasures. 
Here, however, they are conquered of this inclination by a 
regimen of carbonate of soda, mixed with their food. This 
harmless infusion destroys all passion, without impairing 
any of the functions ; and at the end of his term the convict 
may come out in his natural condition, with all his faculties 
uninjured, and not deprived of memory, vigor, eyesight, 
health, and the hope which springs from and depends upon 
them. Without this protective dosing, five years sentences 
are almost equivalent to sentences of death. It is within 
the recollection of our readers that Colonel Monroe Edwards 
fell a victim to the gilded tortures of the past. Carbonate 
of soda should be introduced into our prisons. Nay, it 
might be profitably used it many other places. The pris- 
oners complain of this feature of their punishment, and 
would not take the medicine unless it were mixed with 
their food. It is given to them steadily for the first five 
or six weeks, and after that at intervals. In this prison, as 
in Millbank — nay, in all London — the keepers are dressed 
in uniform. • 

Millbank does not differ materially from Pentonville. It 
is built in the same radiating style, but is a complete circle. 
The system is solitary, the work is done by the prisoners in 
their cells, and they have yards allotted for their exercise. 
The discipline does not seem to be as stringent as at Pen- 
tonville, and it is relieved, too, by the feature of one large 
workshop for coarse tailoring in the centre, where some hun- 
dred and twenty men and boys sit in silent presence of each 



56 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

other. This prison is very large, and will hold eighteen 
hundred prisoners. It was erected in 1836, but Pentonville 
is only four or five years old. Both may be considered 
experiments in the solitary system, and I may as well men- 
tion here, that the officer in attendance informed me that 
both were very unpopular with all candidates who are eligi- 
ble to such residences. With the discipline of these places 
staring them in the face, there are none to commit crime 
now, as of old, for the mere sake of transportation. In the 
way of punishment, the shower-bath is unknown, though it 
is sometimes used for medicinal purposes. The usual pun- 
ishments are close confinement, denial of the yard, low food, 
and sometimes whipping. 

Having gone so far into this gloomy subject, I will now 
conclude w T ith a brief view of Newgate. The letter of Mr. 
Hard wick, at the request of Mr. Mayne, secured me admis- 
sion to this place. My sentiment was different on entering 
it from that which I experienced at the penitentiaries. There 
it was disgust — here it was awe. The very doorway, with 
its sculptured chains, was classical in horror, and the thou- 
sand crimes, that it dark cells had received, seemed all to 
cluster to the portal, to chill the entrance and appal the 
comer. The pleasant face of the very polite and gentle- 
manly deputy-governor, however, relieved these sensations 
in some degree, and brought me to an ordinary tone of 
observation. 

Newgate is now used only as a house of detention for 
prisoners awaiting trial, or awaiting orders after sentence, 
and in this respect, as well as in respect to public executions, 
it is a prison of the same character as the City Prison or 
Tombs of New York. It is far different in management and 
condition, however, and holds every point of the contrast in 
its favor. There are no general halls or corridors into which 



THE NEWGATE PRISON. 57 

the whole body of offenders are turned to hold vile conver- 
sation with each other ; no train of acoustic pipes through 
which they can shout blasphemy from cell to cell ; but the 
entire prison is divided into wards and small rooms, and as 
much pains is taken to sift offenders and lock the different 
grades apart, as is taken by a retailer to assort his good 
articles from bad. In this way you are shown from rooms 
where you meet the juvenile first offenders, to the halls of 
the more hardened culprit ; until at length you reach the 
ponderous cells which close upon the murderer, and preserve 
him for the gibbet. There is, therefore, no chance of one 
offender corrupting another less vicious than himself, and no 
opportunity afforded for the bad to stimulate each other 
with a false hardihood and keep off the approaches of repent- 
ance. Moreover, there is no chance of their being supplied 
with liquor, through visitors, or by bribing the cupidity of 
the keepers, as is continually done in the Tombs at New- 
York ; for no visitors are allowed to come in personal con- 
tact with a prisoner, and a penalty of twenty pounds and 
loss of place makes the keeper observant of his duty. Each 
prisoner is allowed a pint of ale a day, if he can purchase 
it; but no spirits are permitted on any pretense whatever. 
By way of keeping those who are under sentence out of 
idleness until they are sent away, they are occupied in pick- 
ing oakum — a more profitable occupation than the concoc- 
tion of perjuries to sell to other prisoners, for promises of 
aid in procuration of pardons, or performing commissions 
after they are gone. 

The discipline in relation to boys is excellent. The in- 
stant they come in they are placed in the hands of a resident 
schoolmaster (a person who on Sundays acts as clerk to the 
chaplain), and though they remain but a day, he begins to 
instruct them in the rudiments of education. His demeanor 



58 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

is mild and encouraging, and under his tutelage many a 
ruffian in the egg has been inspired with a better ambition 
than mere hatred to mankind, and received the impulse 
which has reformed him to creditable purposes. Here, as 
in the penitentiaries, yards are allowed for exercise, but in 
consequence of the confined space, three or four are allowed 
to exercise together. In one yard there were some fourteen 
convicts in single file, going their hour in a constant circle, 
like beasts traveling in a mill. In the yard adjoining this, 
we were shown the corner where the sweep worked his way 
up, by putting his back to the wall and by pressing his 
naked hands and feet in the hollows of the rough masonry. 
It seems to be some seventy feet high, and as I looked up I 
could imagine the terrible sensation of the tired climber, 
when plastered in the angle and resting himself near the 
top, to regain breath and strength for the continuance of his 
dizzy task. None but a sweep could have done it. As it 
was, he succeeded — gained the top of the wall, made a 
perilous jump to a lower roof, and from thence dropped 
some forty feet into the street. In a few weeks, however, 
he was arrested for a new offense, and consigned to his old 
quarters. The manner of his escape was still a mystery, 
but he yielded to the vanity of being considered a hero in 
his line, and described the means he had employed. Upon 
this a row of long spikes, pointing downward, was placed 
in the angle near the top of the wall, and some six or eight 
feet of the masonry immediately under it was filled with 
plaster and made smooth to the touch. There is no getting 
out there in sweep fashion now. 

In the darker and heavier cells I was shown several curi- 
osities ; among these were gyves and chains of every sort, 
such as had been used in olden times, and most formidable 
in this collection were the very chains that had been worn 



THE NEWGATE PRISON. 59 

by the famous Dick Turpin, the daring owner of Black Bess. 
The governor informed me, however, that no irons are used 
in the prison now, and that the whole state of discipline is 
relaxed. The press room too, where prisoners were laid 
under piles of heavy weights to compel confession, is also 
obsolete, even as an object of exhibition. Among the 
stronger cells I was shown the dungeons of Thurtell, who 
killed Ware, Eliza Brownrigg, Courvoisier, Fontleroy, and 
others most famous in the legends of the place. The passage 
to the condemned's cell was entered by a solid iron slab 
door, almost two inches thick, guarded by great bars, which 
were hasped across its centre span. Well might it remind 
the classical reader of the folded gates of hell, which bear 
the inscription : 

" Let him who enters here, leave hope behind." 

The prison throughout is lit with gas, a jet of which is 
introduced into every cell. This burns all night in every 
cell, as well as in the passages, and is kept up, not as an 
article of luxury, but as a rule of safety to prevent escapes. 
A man cannot skulk out of a passage that is continually in a 
glare of light, as if it were in gloom. Even his shadow will 
betray him. 

Most of the executions that have been chronicled in the 
Newgate Calendar have taken place in this building, and 
there are but few exceptions made from it now in the case 
of local criminals. The Mannings were among the excep- 
tions. The style of execution is peculiar. The criminal, 
instead of being hung in the prison, is turned off in the street. 
Dressed in his grave clothes, he steps out in front of what is 
called the debtor's door. Here he makes his last dying 
speech to the crowd that sways to and fro at his feet, and 
swarms upward even to the roofs on every side, as if to 
smother him with life. After the speech is over, his cap is 



60 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

drawn, the foot-piece or platform is knocked away, and in a 
few minutes he is no better than a dead dog, or than Henry 
VIII., who lies mouldered yonder in Westminster Abbey. 

In going out I noticed the mode of the prisoners receiving 
visitors. For this purpose, there are two partitions in the 
yard, of iron rail, two feet apart, at either side of which 
prisoners and visitors appear, while the keeper stands in the 
way between. No chance for breeding mischief or concoct- 
ing perjuries here for outside use, unless the keeper makes 
himself the instrument and go-between of villany, as is some- 
times done in the Tombs of New York. For counsellors to 
see their clients, there is a small room in a large hall or 
vestibule, inside the body of the main building, the sides of 
which are glass, in order that even here the prisoner may be 
under a sort of observation. As I passed this, a most pain- 
ful sight arrested my attention. In the centre of the room 
sat a well dressed young man, of fine appearance, with his 
collar thrown open, his hair disordered, his eyes bent straight 
forward, and his features fixed as stone. On his lap, with 
her form trailing across his bosom and drooping partly over 
his shoulder like a blighted vine, wreathed a young female, 
clothed in weeds, as if the living death of the man to whom 
she clung, had translated her prematurely into this wisp of 
widowhood and woe. " He was the confidential clerk to an 
Assurance Company, and that is his wife, who is allowed to 
see him here as a special favor," said the gentleman who 
accompanied me without waiting for a question. As he 
spoke, he turned his head away, and with a heavy heart I 
instinctively followed his example. I felt that the unhappy 
pair were entitled to the poor luxury allowed them without 
the intrusion of an observer. What a fool is he who ever 
dreams of crime ! With this sad picture in my eyes, I 
closed my visit to Newgate. 



London, June, 1851. 

The Queen — The Ladies — The Ascot Races — The Opera — 
The Theatres — Madame TJgalde and the Prodigal Son. 

I have seen the Queen. I have seen her, but were it not 
that the readers of these letters expect to hear my opinion 
of her appearance, I should consult a discreet politeness, by 
saying nothing on the subject. It is always a delicate task 
to speak about a woman's beauty, and by no means a plea- 
sant one when candor requires you to disparage it, especially 
when the possessor is rather an amiable person. But I have 
seen the Queen, and if I had ever been an admirer of her 
qualities, I should wish I had not, for verily she possesses one 
of the most unfortunate outlines of face which ever perplexed 
the flatteries of art. 

I saw her first in her state coach, in procession to St. 
James' Palace on a levee day, and have seen her three times 
since at more advantage, but the first impression remained 
unsoftened. There is no chance for a mistake in her Ma- 
jesty's facial angle, and a glance is followed by a conclusion 
against it. On the occasion in St. James' Park, there were 
two parties of American gentlemen from different hotels, 
who stood in a group at the point of view I occupied. When 



62 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the Queen passed, each turned and looked the others in the 
face, and the smile which came from all, said almost in plain 
words, " Lord ! how we have been humbugged by the pic- 
tures." By-and-by this smile broke into a laugh, and every 
one enjoyed it, as men will who detect a trick that has de- 
ceived them, but which has not affected their credit for intel- 
ligence. " She does not bear the most remote resemblance 
to any of her pictures," said one. " I suppose it would be 
about && much as a man's life is worth to attempt to portray 
her accurately ;" said another. " No artist who wishes to 
obtain the royal favor will ever draw her side face," said a 
third. "I'll tell you what I think about her, gentlemen," re- 
marked a fourth; " if such a looking person were introduced 
in a ball-room in New York as a partner for a dance, the 
gentleman, who out of politeness went through the cotillion 
with her, would feel he had a right afterwards to inquire 
what object the person who had scared her up had in fur- 
nishing him with such a partner." " But she has a fine com- 
plexion," said I. " So she has," said the last speaker, " but 
of what avail is complexion to such a line of feature'? Her 
face protrudes in the centre, and retires at the forehead and 
chin. She is, in short, what is known as a pig-faced lady, and 
the complexion of Ninon de L'Enclos would not redeem her." 
My friend, though in the main correct, was a little too 
severe. There is nothing offensive in the broad good-natured 
face of the Queen of Britain ; but she is a most insignificant 
looking personage, and no peanut stand in the realm could 
adopt her for its overseer without risking a loss of import- 
ance from the presence of its keeper. She is insipid in 
every feature, and the unfortunate protrusion of the centre 
of the face and retreat of the forehead and the chin, indicate 
that lack of mental force which is Nature's charter for the 
enforcement of respect. Add to this a shortness of the upper 



THE QUEEN. 63 

lip, which almost discloses the teeth, even when in a state 
of repose, and seems to promise nothing but a petulant lisp, 
and you have before you a tolerable notion of the face of the 
blue-eyed, fair-skinned Queen of England. In stature, she is 
short and dumpy : being squared according to the German 
fashion ; and she has a foot as flat as a brick. No dignity 
redeems this contour. She has no more natural majesty 
than a baby-jumper, or style than a brown jar. In short, 
she is a great non-entity, a tractable idol, which this Mighty 
People set at their head as a sort of symbol of a power that 
once existed in the State, the shade and show of which it is 
convenient to retain. A certain amount a year is allowed 
out of the treasury to feed and to amuse her — a stout, well- 
behaved fellow is provided as her husband ; and as a return for 
this style of living, she is only required to sign a few papers 
a day, and be present at the opening of Parliament once a 
year. But she is expected to go to the play and the races 
as often as possible ; to keep herself cheerful and gracious 
with the people; and, by way of gaining their hearts, in 
order that the machinery of monarchy may work in quiet, 
she is furnished with large sums of money, to contribute to 
chari table funds of various kinds. A few of the people, such 
as Richard Cobden, have found out that the general pocket 
pays for these showy largesses ; but the ignorant, who do 
not know that every time they open their teeth for food, 
they make contribution to the public purse, hurrah for the 
gracious delusion. As I looked upon the showy cavalcade 
of State, and saw the golden carriages with their loads of 
dukes and ministers, flare by, I could not repress a feeling 
of contempt, nor avoid asking myself the question, whether 
the really great men of this great nation did not sink in their 
own esteem when they paid humility and homage to that 
insipid woman. It is well to mention here that, as long as 



64 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

Cobden has been in public life, he has not yet been pre- 
sented to the Queen. He has an objection, among other 
things, to the court-dress and tights, and his excuse is, that 
he does not wish to appear in any figure for which his chil- 
dren might laugh at him. 

In private life the Queen is esteemed amiable, but there 
is a story current that she is a little tartar in her household, 
and also that she is exceedingly careful of Prince Albert. 
Certain it is, that during the entire period of her marriage, 
he has not slept a single night from her side, and that the 
only time he visited his native home she accompanied him. 
On one occasion he went to Liverpool to preside at the open- 
ing of a railway, but, by direction of the Queen, he was 
obliged to return the same night ; making over four hundred 
miles travelling, in addition to the fatigues of the occasion. 
Rather a hard day's work that for the consort of a Queen. 
It would seem by this that her majesty is disposed to be 
jealous ; but perhaps it only indicates a just appreciation of 
the value of her partner. Indeed, she and Albert seem to be 
a loving couple, and it is proper they should do as much as 
possible for each other, for they do no good to anybody 
else. The station of neither of them is by any means enviable 
to an American. Nevertheless, when I told an Englishman 
I would not exchange my position in life for that of Prince 
Albert, he regarded me as an impostor. I explained to him 
that Albert had no future — that all the avenues of his ambi- 
tion were closed up, and he could do nothing more in this 
world but eat. But my friend could not understand me. 
Finally, I reminded him, that by the constitution of the 
United States, I was already a sovereign in my own coun- 
try, at which he became reconciled to my pretensions, for 
he burst into a laugh, and good naturedly took all that I had 
been saying as a sort of dry-joke on my part. 



THEASCOTRACES. 65 

The procession of the Queen from Buckingham to St. 
James' Palace on the levee day, was a grand affair in the 
way of show. Though the distance between the two palaces, 
both being in the same park, (St. James') was but a few 
hundred yards, it took six state coaches to make up her per- 
sonal train, while the one which contained her and her con- 
sort, had on the board behind, six rigid footmen, clustered 
as closely as an allegory cut from a scant piece of marble. 
Ahead were the Life Guards, all as bright as if they had 
been painted up and gilt as Christmas toys, while behind, 
and around, and in all portions of the splendid field, 
were whizzing bright coaches, to be present at the cere- 
mony. 

The entrance of the Queen to the course of the Ascot 
races, though less imposing, was, however, much more in- 
teresting in its style. Seventy thousand people were ga- 
thered on the ground, and for half an hour before one o'clock 
all looked with interest towards Windsor Castle for her Ma- 
jesty's approach as the signal for the race to begin. Punc- 
tual to the hour, a buzz ran along the line, and presently the 
royal train rolled past the grand stand on the green turf 
allotted to the course. There were no guards nor music. 
In the first coach, preceded by outriders, came a batch of 
ladies belonging to the palace ; next came her Majesty and 
consort and two royal children ; next the Duke of Wellington, 
and three other distinguished persons ; next a batch of princes, 
and so on till I counted thirteen carriages, with intervening 
lacqueys mounted on horses of the highest breed. I could 
now understand what the Queen did with the one hundred 
and thirty-six horses which I saw in her stables, and was en- 
abled for the first time to give credence to the statement of 
the gilded groom, who on the day of my visit to the royal 
mews, had informed me they were all used nearly every day. 



66 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

The Ascot race was for the Russian Emperor's plate, and 
it being the grand day, I had a fair opportunity of observing 
this national sport, and its incidents, in their best style. 
The grand stand on which I stood was filled with nobles, 
noble ladies, and members of the haut-ton. From the top 
seat, as I gazed down the pitch, it looked like a bank of 
flowers ; from the lower seat, as I looked up, it took the 
form of a parterre, with jewels sparkling over the entire 
galaxy. The day was damp, and to guard against the ever- 
lasting rain of the climate, the front and sides of the stand 
were framed with long, sliding windows; which, being half 
drawn down, shut in volumes of the most refined perfumes, 
giving the whole one feature more of paradise. The ladies, 
however, were most of them rather too stout for angels, and 
they exhibited a languor also, which spoke too much of mor- 
tal ease. Moreover, their tastes in attire were not quite so 
delicate as we may expect to see evinced, when we open our 
immortal eyes upon the fields of Beulah. There was too 
much profusion. Piles of laces and cambrics and silks, mul- 
tiplied by flounces, were the prevailing features of the scene, 
and enlarged to the eye, that abundance of contour, which it 
is the aim of the American and French ladies to repress. 
This luxuriance of form is general among the aristocratic 
English classes. It commences at the neck and spreads in 
voluptuous increase, till you lose all memory of a girdle. 
The feet and ankles are by no means fairy -like, and the only 
delicacy w r hich their hands can claim resides in the qualities 
of softness and color. The best formed of the English 
women are among the servant maids and working classes, 
whose naturally fine physical inheritance is trained by labor 
into graceful lines. The rich do nothing but eat, and never 
go abroad except to loll in a coach, or lounge at the opera, 
or dawdle at an evening conversazione. The result is inev- 



TEE ASCOT RACES. 67 

itable. They cannot choose but get fat. Even turkeys and 
geese are unable to resist such discipline. 

The style of racing in this country differs from ours, and 
it also differs in philosophy. Here it is a national amuse- 
ment of high character, and being patronized by the Queen, 
is popular with all classes. With us it is resigned almost 
entirely to gay men of the world, gayer women, and gam- 
blers. I do not mean by this that they do not bet here. On 
the contrary, everybody bets. Even the ladies on all sides 
had brought paper tablets to guide them in their wagers; but 
they were bets of pastime, not of profit. With us the aim 
is gain alone, and the result is counted on the fingers. The 
running of the horses too is different. There are no single 
matches. Everything I saw was in the shape of sweep- 
stakes. An annual piece of plate is set up by a Jockey 
Club, or given by some potentate like the Emperor of Rus- 
sia, to which the price of entree, for five or three year old, 
is a certain sum, the surplus of which adds to the plate a 
purse. A general scramble of three miles (the extent of the 
long race,) is then made, and twice round the course, which 
is one mile and a half in extent, decides the contest. In 
races of one mile heats, the horses start on the back side of 
the course, and come in at the stand. The only matches 
that are made, therefore, are were two horses, which are in 
the general scramble, are privately waged against each 
other by their respective fanciers or owners. The course 
differs from ours in appearance, as the path of the race, 
instead of being gravel or naked earth, is fine green sward, 
rolled closely down. No dust therefore follows the feet of 
the troop, and the surface is more indifferent to rain, being 
less heavy under such circumstances than ours. The stands 
are excellent, being well adapted to the ease of the specta- 
tor, and to his protection from the weather. The front of 



b» EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the course opposite the stand was lined, like ours, with long 
barricades of vehicles, in which family parties were disposing 
of pastry and champagne during all the intervals of the 
race. This refreshment was also extensively provided for 
on the first floor of the grand stand ; where, between the 
two main divisions of the sport, the ladies and gentlemen 
flocked en masse, and took luncheons at side tables, of soup 
and steaks, at from 6 to 10 shillings the head. The Queen 
occupied the small stand of the Jockey Club on the right of 
the grand stand, which, with the windows all drawn down, 
made it on three sides quite a box of glass. I presume she 
was as well provided in the way of luncheon as her sub- 
jects, for I noticed she retired from her seat at the same 
time. 

The appearance of the Queen at the opera house was less 
imposing than at the levee or the race course. No parade 
was made at her entrance. Even the national anthem was 
not struck up by the orchestra, as I had been informed was 
the custom. All ostentation was omitted, and' I was only 
conscious of her presence by the turns which a large portion 
of the audience would make towards her box at intervals, 
to notice if some very fine cadenza or shake had made an 
impression on her Majesty. She was therefore a secondary 
feature in this display. The opera house itself is to a stranger 
the great attraction. It is not arranged li'ke ours in general 
circles, where the audience are divided off by sofas or arm- 
chairs ; but it rises in six or seven successive tiers of private 
boxes, each of which are separated from the other by per- 
manent partitions, and protected by inscriptions of the aris- 
tocratic owner's name. In short, the entire inside of the 
vast amphitheatre occupied by the audience is one succes- 
sion of gold and damask pigeon-coops, with the exception 
of a gallery in the sixth story, and a portion of the pit, 



THE OPERA. 



69 



where the occupants sit in general. The greater portion of 
the pit, or parquette, is allotted to stalls, or arm-chairs, 
which are a guinea each, and the remainder, or scrambling 
place near the door, is set down at half that price. I occu- 
pied a stall at the Eoyal Haymarket ; but on a subsequent 
occasion, at the Covent Garden, a friend and myself took 
seats in a box, at half a guinea premium ; a crown more 
procured us a copy of the opera and the hire of a lorgnette 
for the night, which being added to the coach fare, made the 
visit to the opera come at nine dollars a piece. It must be 
borne in mind, however, that for this we enjoyed the delight 
of hearing Grisi, Castellan, Bertrandi, Tamburini, Formes, 
Taliarico, Tamberlik, and an orchestra of eighty artists of 
the first European celebrity. No such opera as this could 
be sustained in any other city in the world but London ; 
because no other city can afford to pay for it ; because all 
other aristocracies but thafof England (with the exception, 
perhaps, of Russia) are tinsel and imitation; and because 
from their enormous wealth, a pound here is just as current 
an item of expense, as a dollar is elsewhere. It is for these 
reasons that the opera, which must be sustained by the aid 
of government in Paris, nourishes by itself in London, and 
it is for the same reasons that the great performers of the 
world in every line, make the capital of England the plat- 
form of their profits and their ambition. One of the results 
of this is, to elevate the style of art in this quarter, and 
make a London endorsement, generally speaking, a certifi- 
cate of excellence. 

The performances of the regular drama and its appoint- 
ments are also vastly better than those we have in the 
United States. Here great pains is taken to put pieces cor- 
rectly on the stage, and the proprieties of history are never 
sacrificed to stage effect. The prices are high, one dollar 



70 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

and twenty-five cents being charged for the first seats in the 
good houses, and seventy-five cents in the minor ones ; but 
in both the players are accomplished, and the scenery and 
properties are fine. The Haymarket, under the manage- 
ment of Webster, the Lyceum., under the management of 
Charles Matthews and Madame Vestries, and the Princess' 
Theatre, under the management of Mr. and Mrs. Kean, rank 
as the best. The Drury Lane is in a state of decline. For 
the last year, it is said, it has been losing money, and a pro- 
phecy is abroad that it will go by the board during the pre- 
sent season. I saw an operatic performance of the parable 
of the Prodigal Son there, however, as adapted from the 
French stage, w r hich was very well attended. The principal 
perform ers in it were the celebrated Vandenhoff the elder, 
Miss Vandenhoff his daughter, and Anderson the English 
Kirby, who starred it lately in the States. The perform- 
ance, however, was inferior, as a* whole, to the performances 
I saw at the other theatres, and had it not been for the 
novelty of seeing a scripture parable put upon the stage, 
and the startling spectacle of Azael revelling in an orgie 
with some fifty or sixty half-clothed and licentious bayaderes, 
I should not have stayed it through. These things, however, 
do not offend the public taste of this meridian. Dancing 
women are not clouted in deference to any sentiment of 
national modesty, and their voluptuous evolutions excite no 
more objection than the naked pictures, and the very naked 
statues that are to be seen in every exhibition of the arts. 
There is a wide difference between the degree of toleration 
with which the American and English public treat these 
invasions of reserve. With us most of them would not be 
tolerated at all ; here none of them» occasion the least criti- 
cism. A good illustration is now ready to my hand. A 
certain Madame Ugalde, a famous cantatrice of the Grand 



THE OPERA. 



71 



Opera at Paris, had for some time been under the suspicion 
of her husband. One night last week he entered her cham- 
ber (in Paris) rather abruptly, and charged her with having 
her lover in the room. The lady was at first indignant, 
then hysterical from a deep sense of wrong, but finally 
recovering her self-command, she, with that audacity which 
is peculiar to women of her habits, challenged him to search 
and see. Unfortunately she overplayed her part ; he took 
her at her word, and discovered the lover under the bed. 
The affair created considerable talk, and to escape the laugh 
that was sure to meet her on every side in Paris, Madame 
Ugalde came over to London. She has been announced to 
appear at the Royal Opera next week. The newspapers 
which announce her, have alluded good naturedly to the late 
faux pas of the pretty Madame Ugalde, but nobody seems 
to consider that as a moral disqualification for her profes- 
sional appearance, and it is quite likely the Queen will visit 
the opera when she performs. Such a woman, under such a 
report, would not be endured an instant on the boards of any 
theatre in the United States. I do not charge this against 
the morals of English society, but I give it in evidence of the 
difference of estimation upon such subjects in the two great 
nations of the age. My comment is that American society is 
healthier and will hold together longer than society in Eng- 
land. The star theatre of the present season is the St. James, 
made so by the appearance at that place of Madame Rachel, 
the celebrated French tragedienne. Here the admission fee 
is a guinea, as at the opera, and to secure a place, it is neces- 
sary that you should get a ticket early in the day. I have not 
yet been an observer of the wonderful tragic powers of this 
world-renowned woman, so must postpone my remarks on 
that subject till another time. On the subject of the opera 
and the theatres, I have but to add, that at the doors of the 



72 EUROPE IS A HURRY. 

two Opera Houses, and the Drury Lane, which is still the 
Royal theatre, are always stationed a company of grenadiers. 

The second class of public amusements for the evening in 
London, is the circus and gardens. The former of these 
performances are divided between the two rival establish- 
ments of Astley's (now Batty's) and Vauxhall. The first 
of these is an amphitheatre devoted to horse theatricals, of 
Timour the Tartar school, and legitimate ring performances. 
The other is a mixed performance of music and fireworks in 
open gardens, equestrian performances in a closed circus, 
and a general ball under the trees at the close. The first 
of these establishments requires no description, it being like 
our amphitheatres in all respects, with nothing to strike the 
stranger except the beer and orange boys, who cry their 
goods at the top of their voices, between the pieces, from 
the gallery, and the feature of stray women being allowed 
to sit in the pit, among families of decent people, as well as 
in the gallery. I may as well state. here that no objection 
is made to the entrance of any female who is accompanied 
by a gentleman, to the best places of the operas or theatres 
of London. Though she be ever so notorious, a male com- 
panion is her charter to sit down beside a duchess. Vaiix- 
hall seems at present to be the most popular of the two 
places, inasmuch as its features as a garden are adapted to 
the season, and partly because young Hernandez and Mada- 
moiselle Palmyra Anato are its great attractions. I went 
there with a friend on the second night of my arrival in 
London, and as my first impressions of the disposition to 
plunder a stranger in this city were derived at this place, I 
may as well give an outline of the scientific and gradual 
manner in which I and he were bled. 

A look at our hats told the cabman we were foreigners, 
so in defiance of the act of parliament, he charged us three 



ENGLISH OYSTERS. 73 

and sixpence English for our drive from Charing Cross. 
" Will you have a bill, sir," said a polite young gentleman 
with no crown to his hat, who stood at the door. I took the 
bill mechanically, but was informed, the next moment, that 
the box door would not open until eight o'clock, which was 
half an hour off. I proposed to my friend that we should go 
and get some English oysters, of which we had heard so much, 
in order to while away the time, but as I was walking off I 
found my arm pulled by the crownless savan of the bills, 
who touching his finger to his forehead and scraping his left 
foot backward, rather gracefully asked " a penny for the 
bill." "Are you not employed to give bills out?" said I, 
handing him his demand. " Oh, Lord bless you, no sir, I vish I 
vas," was the reply, which was followed by a laugh from two 
or three of his profession, who had closed up to look at the 
gents who " vas so jolly green as to 'spose any think in Eng- 
land was to be given away for nothink." My friend and I 
tasted three oysters apiece, when looking sympathetically in 
each other's face we suddenly stopped, paid the man, and 
made a hasty retreat to the nearest ale house to wash the 
nauseous, copperish flavor from our throats. They were 
well described to us previously by an American, who told 
us that they tasted like penny pieces in vinegar. We consid- 
ered our experience well paid for by the penance of the 
three we had eaten. The English oysters derive this flavor 
from the copperas with which their native banks are impreg- 
nated, and no transplanting or culture will cure them of it. 
Stewed with chicken, they are barely tolerable, but I would 
advise an American not to try them raw. 

At eight o'clock the doors of Vauxhall were open, and for 
five shillings, or $1,25 each, we were admitted in. We 
were disappointed to find, however,' that we were to be 
amused by the performances of a band for half an hour, and 



74 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

that a concert of fourth rate singers was to occupy an hour 
more, before the performances of the arena commenced. 
But we were not to be left without temptation to expense, 
for while strolling about the grounds, we fell upon the cabin 
of a wizard who told fortunes in acrostics for twenty five 
cents a head. In mere desperation, for the night was chilly 
and the garden thin, we passed through the fellow's hands, 
and next fell into the clutches of a gipsy in a grotto, who did 
the oracular for us at half price. Three beautiful Circassian 
ladies, with large turbans and small feet " took" us next for 
twenty -five cents more, and when we had seen these, the 
concert opened. After having heard Catherine Hayes the 
night before, we got tired at the second song, and my friend 
invited me to take a drink. A very stylish looking young 
lady at a side bar, told me that she had no Madeira or other 
wine on draught, but I might have spirits, ale, or Soyer's 
nectar. I then declined drinking altogether, but my friend 
took brandy. While drinking, he handed the young lady an 
English shilling, which she dropped in the drawer without 
any more ado. My friend stood where he could not see her, 
but hearing no sound upon the counter, he diffidently in- 
quired of me, after he had taken three or four sips of his 
drink, if she did not intend to give him any change. " Keep 
your position, and don't compromise yourself by looking 
round," was my answer, " and I'll be able to tell you in a 
moment." But the stylish young lady made no sign, and 
he soon became conscious that he had paid twenty-five cents 
for a glass of brandy and water. After the concert was half 
an hour older, I felt called upon to return his courtesy, so I 
invited him into a long saloon that was spread full of tables, 
in advertisement of refreshments. My friend had no appe- 
tite, so I invited him* to drink. " Have you any wine V 
said I to the waiter, who was dressed handsomely in a full 



WAITERS. 75 

suit of black with white neckcloth, (the waiter uniform all 
over England). " All kinds sir," said he with a low bow. 
" Let us have two glasses of sherry," said I with the same 
confidence that I would have called for it in the Carlton 
House. " We sell nothing less than a pint, sir !" was the 
answer thrown out towards me by means of another low 
bow. " Well, let us have a pint then," said I slowly 
stretching out my hand, as if I was laying it on the subject, 
and putting it softly to rest forever. The waiter wheeled 
and disappeared like one of the musical figures in a hand 
organ, but re-appeared in about five minutes with a black 
pint bottle, out of which the cork was nearly drawn. Having 
set it before us, he wheeled behind my chair. I looked at 
the bottle, and after blowing from the surface a quantity of 
dust, which, from the ease with which it flew, had evidently 
just been sifted on it for the purpose of giving it age, I 
poured out two glasses for myself and my friend, and with 
another motion paid the two and sixpence (sixty-two and a 
half cents) which was its price. " Any think else, sir !" said 
the waiter ; " no," said I. The genie then mumbled some- 
thing else, which ended with the word waiter ', which I under- 
stood as a question if I wanted him ; to which J answered 
" no," once more. The third time, however, the spirit was 
more distinct, and I understood that he wanted to be " re- 
membered" for having brought the wine. Upon this, having 
no small change, I handed him a shilling, whereupon he dis- 
appeared with a much lower bow than any he had pre- 
viously given us. This is the rule in all public places. The 
w r aiter or attendant expects to be paid from a penny up to a 
shilling for everything he does. You never get in a cab 
but some hanger-on of the stand opens the door and com- 
municates your direction to the driver, in expectation of 
a penny. If you pay five shillings to go to the theatre, 



76 EUROPE IN A HUKRY. 

unless you bribe the boxkeeper, he will put you in the 
second tier ; and if you give him half a crown in return 
for a bill, he will never hand you any change but a bow 
You pay toll at every step, and the only view in which you 
are regarded by the majority of those you meet, is as a sub- 
ject of device and extortion. 

By and by the concert was over, and a rush commenced 
for the circus. We took advantage of a transparency which 
notified us that for an extra twenty-five cents we could se- 
cure admission to the boxes, but not liking our location 
when we got there, we purchased an entire box for four dol- 
lars, in a really good position, and saw the performances 
out. A machine on high wheels, like a gig, called a patent 
safety, started with us for home at half past eleven, but 
broke down ingloriously on Blackfriar's Bridge, while en- 
deavoring to distance a two horse cab. Out of commiser- 
ation for the poor fellow who had hurt his horse badly, and 
partly out of gratitude for our bodily escape, I gave the 
driver his half crown as if he had performed his job, 
and my friend and I scampered through the rain, which 
was now falling for the fifth time since daybreak, to the 
next cab stand. Fifty cents more took us home, and made 
up an evening's expense of eleven dollars and fifty cents for 
seeing Vauxhall and taking one drink and a half. I men- 
tion these trifles in illustration of the ingenious devices which 
are thrown around you on every side to trap you into invo- 
luntary expense. If the statement of them does not serve 
for the protection of strangers, it will at least serve for their 
amusement. It now but remains for me to say, to conclude 
the subjects of this letter, that in the way of equestrian per- 
formances, we are far ahead of the English in our male per- 
formers, and far behind them with our female ones. The 
men here ride clumsily, or rather they do not attain any 



EQUESTRIAN PERFORMERS. 77 

high pitch of excellence, but the women are superb and 
daring. We have nothing to approach the latter in the 
States, but neither England nor France can compete in the 
male line with such performers as Thomas McCullom, Eaton 
Stone, Levi North, and Young Hernandez. Three of these 
are now here, the two former soon to appear at Drury Lane, 
and the latter now performing at Vauxhall. 



London, June, 1851. 

The Review — Harrow on the Hill — St. PauVs — Madame 
Tassaud^s. 

This morning I was aroused with the announcement, that 
there was to be a grand review at Woolwich, by the Duke 
of Wellington and the Marquis of Anglesea, so, hurrying 
through my breakfast, I set out with a friend for Old Lon- 
don Bridge, to take the steamer down the river. In contra- 
distinction with everything else in London, this style of 
traveling is very cheap, the whole distance, some eight miles, 
being accomplished for eight cents of our money. The 
rail-road fare in -the first class cars to the same place, is just 
treble price. The route by the Thames is therefore the most 
popular, and I may add the most pleasant, for it relieves 
you from the dust of the road, and affords you a fine view 
of the grand panorama of the shores. Among the most 
notable sights which you thus review, is Lambeth Palace 
on one side, Somerset Palace on the other, the new Houses 
of Parliament, the Tower, the dome of St. Paul's, and the 
Monument, looming in the air above the fungi of smoky 
warehouses and pinched dwellings. 

Not the least notable of all are the little steam-tugs, dart- 



THE REVIEW. 79 

ing helter-skelter, in shoals, this way and that, and the ma- 
jestic bridges of stone and iron that grip either shore, and 
span the stream. In this region of the city, everything is 
filled with interest, and every speck of view at all times 
teems with life, as if under the special task of getting up a 
holiday. The river is the rival of the road, and, running in 
the centre of the city, is converted into a general highway, by 
means of cheap little steamers or river omnibuses, which con- 
vey you from point to point, with much greater facility than 
the wheeled vehicles of Fleet-street, Cheapside, or the Strand, 
to which line they run in opposition. By this description of 
conveyance I might have gone to Vauxhall for two cents, 
instead of paying three and sixpence for cab hire, as I stated 
in my last letter, or have made a visit to the Tunnel, or the 
Bank, with corresponding saving. The result is that thou- 
sands use the river instead of the omnibuses, and the little 
steamers, adapting themselves to the demand, take you ur> 
and set you down as readily as a coach would in Broadway. 
They have no stated hours for starting, but every bridge has 
a station, and go when you will, a conveyance is ready to 
take you up or down with seldom the loss of more than a 
minute. 

Different lines use the same hulk or dock, and the numer- 
ous boats run in and out as if each thought for itself, and 
knew how to observe the rules of precedence and order. 
Though some run further than others, you are not likely to 
make a mistake in going to intermediate points, for they stop 
at all the bridges, and give you warning were you are, by 
crying out the name of the landing. The price for the ordi- 
nary distances is one penny, and from that it runs up to four 
for the longer ones. The size of the boats do not average 
more than forty tons, and some of them are even smaller. 
They run very swift, and are managed by a captain, who 



80 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

stands on the wheel-box, and telegraphs with his hand to a 
boy who sits behind him, near the engine-room, and who 
shouts to the engineer a translation of the motion. In this 
way the stoppages and starts are controlled, and the word 
given to lower the smoke-pipe on its hinge to go under or 
" shoot " the bridges. An amusing circumstance occurred 
on the boat which I had taken, growing out of this latter 
manoeuvre.. A Tennessean who sat near me, fixed his eyes 
upon the tall smoke-pipe, in the wake of which he sat, and 
comparing it with the arch of the bridge, inferred that the 
boat could not go under in that direction. Presently she 
began to move towards it ; but he considered this a manoeuvre 
to get fair room to back out. But to his surprise the boat 
continued to advance, and with increased speed, whereupon 
he concluded that something had broken loose, and looked 
round with a glance of mixed inquiry and alarm, as if to 
ask, in Heaven's name, if all near him were so reckless of 
their safety as to sit in the wake of the impending danger. 
Everybody seemed composed, however, when perplexed in 
the extreme he looked aloft again. But the climax had 
come ; the stem of the boat was already within the shadow 
of the arch, and the heavy pipe commenced to bend back- 
ward on its hinge, as if it were tumbling down. The Ten- 
nessean waited no longer, but with a cry of " For God's 
sake, look out for yourselves !" sprang to the side of the 
boat, and would have gone overboard if he had not been 
seized by two or three persons who had been watching his 
motions on the supposition that he was crazy. He looked 
sheepish enough when he saw the pipe rise gracefully to 
its position after we " shot " the arch, but bore with good 
nature the general roar which the ludicrous circumstance 
elicited. 

We arrived at Woolwich in a run of three quarters of an 



THE REVIEW. 81 

hour, after having made landings at all the bridges, Green- 
wich, Blackwell, and some other river stations which I do 
not bear in mind. Being a little late, we did not arrive 
upon the field of review in time to see the troops enter and 
take their positions ; but we saw some fifteen thousand move 
and wheel into columns and sections, and fire with a preci- 
sion that is only to be exhibited by English soldiers, with 
an exception perhaps in favor of the regular troops of the 
American line. I likewise had a good view of the Duke of 
Wellington and Marquis of Anglesea, and beyond this I do 
not know that there was anything in the spectacle worth a 
special mention from this distance. There seemed to be 
about sixty thousand persons present as spectators, who dis- 
tributed themselves around a square of nearly half a mile, 
and who, now and then, indulged in the glorious privilege 
of provoking the guards by breaking the lines, and pouring 
into the square at points of interest, by droves of thousands. 
In this way the square became narrowed very much, for the 
soldiers on post looked hopelessly at the mass, and contented 
themselves with restraining the tide in its course, without 
endeavoring to get it back. Power never deals roughly with 
the people here in any way tangible with the five senses ; but 
it " takes " them in taxes and mathematical discriminations. 
The review was over at three o'clock, at which time I re- 
turned by rail-road, and used up the journey in a nap. The 
remainder of the day I devoted to visiting the Thames Tun- 
nel, and had the pleasure of walking under ground, with 
ships of great burthen sailing over my head. 

The evening of this day was devoted to an illumination 
in honor of the Queen's birthday — a celebration that was 
postponed from its proper date in consequence of a miscar- 
riage suffered by her Majesty about the time of the real 
occasion. There was not as much display, however, as I 



4* 



82 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

expected. Only a few of the principal buildings and the 
largest dwellings were lit up, and their ornaments were 
generally confined to a rosette, the figure of a crown, or the 
letters " V. R." formed out of jets of gas. Finding myself 
in Leicester Square, in the neighborhood of several exhibi- 
tions, I dropped into one which promised an " Assault at 
Arms." I there saw a set-to between Young Molineux the 
black, and a white man named Wilson, also bouts between 
wrestlers from Cumberland and Cornwall ; a fight at single 
stick ; a passage at small sword and sabre, and a contest 
between broadsword and bayonet. The feat of Richard 
Cceur de Lion was also practiced by a swordsman, who 
smote a huge bar of lead in two with a broadsword ; he 
next cut the carcase of a sheep in two as it hung up by the 
heels, and finally performed the feat of Saladin, by sever- 
ing a silk handkerchief with a keen scimitar, while the thin 
fabric floated in the air. Satisfied with my day's observa- 
tions, I then went back to my hotel, and slept the sleep of 
the just. 

The following day being Sunday, I availed myself of the 
opportunity to attend divine service at St. Paul's, and in 
the afternoon I followed the English fashion of driving out, 
by going in a coupee to Harrow on the Hill. This is the place 
where Lord Byron passed his school-boy days, and it is cele- 
brated as one of the finest specimens of rural scenery in all 
England. It does not own its fame without desert. Ten 
of the twelve miles which lead to it is one entire picture of 
blossoming hawthorns, smiling fields, and abundant foliage. 
Every blade of grass and leaf seems to be washed for exam- 
ination, and the very kine that spot the plain, and doze upon 
the slopes, appear to be combed and curried, and set upon 
the picture, with a view to the best effect. 

Harrow itself, as its name denotes, sits upon a hill, while 



HARROW ON THE HILL. 83 

downwards, towards the west, there slopes a valley, as beau- 
tiful as a dream, and as romantic as Titania's dell. No 
wonder that it clung like a soft mist upon the poet's mind, 
or that the gray church, and its grayer tomb-stones, on a 
farther hill beyond, so often moved his boyish fancy to pro- 
fitable meditation. At the foot of the hill, to the left from 
the Church, you get a scene of cosey rural beauty, which is 
a model country picture, and if you will step a little further 
onward, round the curve, until you come to a small pass- 
gate, which is marked the " Norwich Road," you can 
imagine yourself in an earthly paradise. There is no road 
here, nothing but a half-faded path ; but the green fields flow 
before you, in a long sweep of verdure ; and, from the earth 
and hedges, and trees and daisies, rises a perfume, which 
transports the senses, and shames all the perfumes of the 
East. What a place is this for lovers! And what a corner 
is the snug tavern on the first hill, for a romantic couple to 
take their sentimental dinners ! The tavern at Harrow is an 
excellent establishment, and I wish I had not forgotten its 
name. It is the only place in England where I found the 
waiters move with alacrity, and where an hour did not run 
down at the heel of every order. Moreover, the dinner was 
excellent, and the champagne good. 

I started to return at seven o'clock, sorry that the declining 
sun notified me that my visit was at its close. The road, 
however, unfolded compensation at every step ; but just as 
I was enjoying it the most, an unlucky skip of the horse lost 
him his foot, and he broke down in a most disastrous man- 
ner, snapping one of the shafts and cutting his knees, shoul- 
der, and right eye, most wofully by the fall. Luckily, I 
escaped again, and getting free from the vehicle before the 
animal could struggle to his feet, my friend and I lent our 
aid to relieve him from his plight. But he was hopelessly 



84 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

hurt, and the vehicle was past redemption. What made our 
condition worse, we were two miles from Harrow, and it 
was two miles distance more to the nearest tavern in advance. 
There was no alternative, therefore, but for us to walk ; so, 
providing the unlucky driver with means to help himself 
along, we set out upon our travels, to seek our fortune 
towards London. We had got but a short distance, how- 
ever, when a little jaunty wagon, containing a man and a 
pile of children, whizzed by ; the man shouting to us, as he 
tried to hold in a saucy little pony, an invitation to get in 
along with him. Before he could rein in, another vehicle of 
handsome style, containing two gentlemen, offered us the 
same service. The latter tender would have suited us the 
best, but duty lay with the first ; so, thanking the last 
friends for their politeness, we accepted the humbler vehicle 
that was ahead. 

Our Samaritan was a thriving butcher of Camdentown, 
who had been taking " a bit of a drive," with his little ones. 
He was a jolly fellow, appeared to know everybody who 
passed, and, it seemed to me, that he took not a little pride 
in exhibiting the company he had taken in on the road. For 
our part, we were observed by everybody, and by the man- 
ner in which we were stared at, we soon became conscious 
that we were considered out of place. The butcher, how- 
ever, kept making explanations to the gazers, at the top of 
his voice, along the road, as often as he could, availing him- 
self of the intervals between such opportunities, to describe 
to us the state of the cattle-market, the appearance of the 
hay and grain, and the rare qualities of " that there colt" 
of his, " as which was too free, and as which he could scarcely 
hold in." We left him at the first omnibus station, after 
thanking him in proper style for the service he had rendered 



st. paul's. 85 

us. He seemed- overcome with our politeness, and we parted 
in a grand flourish of compliments. 

This incident softened a great deal of my friend's preju- 
dice against the English people, and brought him many steps 
nearer to my opinion, that in substantial goodness of heart 
and real hospitality, the English have not their superiors 
anywhere. It is necessary, however, for them to be con- 
vinced that you deserve attention, for an Englishman natu- 
rally despises all poor people and all foreigners, and thinks 
himself better than any man he does not know. The omni- 
bus set us down, at nine o'clock, in Trafalgar Square, oppo- 
site our hotel, during a gentle shower, which now began to 
fall, as if only to deprive London of the boast of having 
exhibited one whole fair day since my arrival in Great 
Britain. 

On the following morning I devoted two hours to exam- 
ining the monstrous cathedral of St. Paul's, a space that was 
fully occupied in ascending from the street to the top, and 
from the top down again, without any delay more than was 
absolutely necessary for rest. This church, after St. Peter's 
at Rome, is the largest in the world, but as I have not pre- 
served its scale, I do not know that I can better give an idea 
of its magnitude, than by saying that you travel over four 
hundred and sixty steps to reach the top of the dome, and 
that its golden ball, which, from the streets, does not look 
much larger than the shot of a thirty-two pounder, will hold 
eight men. It makes one dizzy to look down upon the tiled 
roofs of the surrounding houses, and the people in the streets 
seem to be not much larger than rats. It costs you three 
shillings and sixpence, English, to be thus elevated, and 
your main regret, after you get up, is, that you cannot pay 
double that sum to be let easily down. 

The system of extortion for this sight is not merely inge- 



86 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

nious, but scientific. You first pay a sixpence, under the 
impression that no farther charge is to be made, and in order 
to avoid unnecessary waste, you reject the offer of a book, 
at a sixpence, describing the building. On the first landing, 
however, you are charged another sixpence, with another 
offer of the book, which you again refuse. You reach the li- 
brary by a further flight, and a sixpence more is charged for 
that, with a new and very pressing invitation to purchase 
the book by the speculator in this quarter. By this time 
your resistance begins to weaken on the pamphlet, and 
you half regret that you had not taken it, if only to save an- 
noyance. A whispering gallery around the lower rim of the 
dome "takes" you for sixpence more, and the " will you 
have a book, sir," makes one more inroad against your 
powers of resistance. Indeed, it will be a wonder if you 
hold out to this point against the exaction, for while you 
are spent and languid, these relays of assailants are always 
fresh, and attack you at the most deplorable disadvantage. 
Finally, you come to a dismal trap of cross beams which 
contains the clock. This is attended by a female with a 
very pale face and large black eyes, who wears a rusty 
black bonnet and carries a key on her finger. Seeing your 
hands empty, she also tenders you a book, which she in- 
forms you, tells, among other things, "every think about 
the clock." At this last assault, nature fails ; you take the 
book, and give her two pence extra, for explaining the fea- 
tures of her department, thanking God devoutly, as you sit 
down and breathe yourself on the steps, that you have re- 
moved one chance of frenzy from the upper stages of the 
ladder. The man who admits you to the ball, however, and 
holds your hat till you come down, " takes" you for six- 
pence more, and thus completes your pecuniary purgation. 
In this manner do these rats and weevils lodge themselves 



ST. PAUL 



87 



in the garments of a stranger, whichever way he goes to see 
public sights in London, and as there is no seeing sights 
without, he must patiently undergo their exactions. The 
evil is not so much in the amount charged, as it is in the 
vexatious way in which it is levied. You are subjected to 
continual surprises of tribute at every step, and the annoy- 
ances of a continual diving for money, and of making change, 
is of itself a great discouragement of your advance. The 
poor devils who thus make you stand and deliver, are, how- 
ever, not deserving of the blame, for they hire their stations 
from one who, perhaps, in the third or fourth remove, leases 
them from the church. The rich mould of dusty grandeur 
is thus cultivated into small speculation, and the magnifi- 
cence, which was invented for a profitable awe, is converted 
into the mean purposes of a show shop. Nevertheless, this 
should be no discouragement to a visitor. Being instructed 
in the manner in which he is to be beset, it is worth a visit 
to observe the insects who live perched in the air in these 
old nooks and turrets the year round ; and it is likewise 
worth the price, to look on London from this height. I 
should rather have said upon the sweat and fog of London, 
than on London itself, for unless you ascend at four o'clock 
in the morning, before the fires are lighted, your view is 
limited to a narrow circle, by a dense and encroaching hori- 
zon of smoke. 

Being in the way of seeing sights to-day, I drove from St. 
Paul's to the National Academy of Painting and Sculpture? 
and from thence consumed the remaining portion of the 
afternoon previous to dinner, at Madame Tussaud's cele- 
brated collection of wax figures. The National Gallery is a 
large depository of paintings and sculpture by the first mas- 
ters of ancient and modern time. The building, which oc- 
cupies one entire side of Trafalgar Square, is divided into 



88 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

two departments, one of which is devoted to the works of 
old masters, and the other to the productions of the new. 
The first department is free to all visitors, and is by far the 
best, while the admission to the second or modern collection 
is a shilling. In the first you have works from the hands of 
Raphael, Guido, Murillo, Carravagio, Titian, Rubens, Car- 
rachi, Vandyke, Da Vinci, Teniers, Sneyders, &c, and in 
the other you have yards of bright, fresh, and glowing colors, 
from modern hands of less repute. In entering the old gal- 
lery, I was exceedingly struck by Raphael's celebrated pic- 
ture of the " Murder of the Innocents." I imagined at first 
that it was an arabesque, on which the figures were raised 
and thrown out ; but closer examination showed me that it 
was plain painting, and enforced from me a higher tribute to 
Raphael's genius, than I had ever paid in the way of im- 
pressions excited by any other artist. It is needless for me 
to speak of its force of expression, the boldness of the com- 
position, its strength of tone, or to use any of those smart 
technicalities of criticism which dandies in the fine arts love 
to dwell on ; suffice it, that without knowing the artist, I 
stood before it, riveted with a novel admiration, and doubt- 
ful whether its portions swelled tangible to the hand or not. 
There are some paintings in this collection which are ex- 
ceedingly lascivious, and one large mythological pencil 
sketch of the size of life, by Annibal Carrachi, I think, 
would be indictable in any country where love was not 
reckoned among the fine arts. Ladies, however, looked 
upon it without any visible agitation, and passed to new 
visions in the same taste, as if they would not be offended 
with a few more of the same sort. The statuary, in the hall 
of the second gallery, exhibits the same free features as the 
paintings, except a few of the largest, which have been 
struck, in parts, by some modest iconoclast with a ham- 



MADAME TUSSAUD S. 



89 



mer. They have not been much improved by this opera- 
tion, however, for the reformation not having been thorough, 
has left either something to regret, or something to con- 
demn. 

The exhibition of wax work at Madame Tussaud's is well 
worthy of a visit from strangers in London. We have 
nothing like it in the United States, and the cadaverous and 
paralytic figures I have seen in our museums furnish not the 
remotest idea of what can be done in this branch of the 
arts. The collection comprises lifelike counterparts of the 
great characters of history, from acknowledged likenesses, 
and often " in their veritable habits as they lived." Here 
you see the late monarchs of England in real robes of state, 
and the great nobles of the time in their court purple and 
their ducal crowns. You also see the notorieties of the 
scaffold and the tribune. In a room which is called the 
" Chamber of Horrors " you have the head of Robespierre, 
bound with a napkin, half soaked with blood from his shat- 
tered jaw. The face is pallid, and the lips are pinched, as 
they were when held by the headsman from the guillotine, 
and you instinctively shrink from it with a sensation of un- 
easiness. You have also the head and bust of Marat, the 
breast marked with the wounds it received from the dagger 
of the beautiful Charlotte Corday, and the face stained with 
the mortal agonies of the same death which he had decreed 
to her lover and to thousands of others. You think of his 
maxim, that " a million more heads must fall in France be- 
fore the Republic is established," and look upon his agony 
as an incident in the natural swoop of his own terrible phi- 
losophy. 

In a prisoner's dock, hard by these revolutionary victims, 
is clustered a group of Newgate murderers, prominent 
among which is Rush, the masked murderer of Stanfield 



90 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

Hall, and Maria Manning, the murderess of O'Connor. 
Maria Manning is the most striking of the group, and her 
bold presence and coarse animal beauty will haunt you for 
at least twelve hours after you have seen it. Her appear- 
ance was quite in keeping with the description given me of 
her by Mrs. Foster, the matron of the Newgate prison. " She 
was a very intelligent woman, sir," said the matron, " but 
the most hardened wretch I ever saw. Nothing could impress 
her with the awful nature of her condition. She had rather 
good manners, but she was as hard as a stone, and would 
take nothing to heart. She is the only prisoner who ever 
came within these walls, since I have been here, who I could 
not feel any sympathy for. Indeed, she was more like a 
beast than a woman. This was her cell." 

Next to the Chamber of Horrors, you have, a room filled 
with curiosities denominated Napoleon's room. In this you 
will find several articles of his clothing, furniture, and finery, 
and two of his coaches, in which you may sit, and invoke 
the inspiration of his genius. One of these is the emperor's 
traveling carriage, taken at the battle of Waterloo. In the 
first or grand saloon, the figures which impressed me most 
were those of Napoleon, Washington, and Mrs. Siddons. 
Napoleon is the main figure in an allegorical group, where 
the kings of Europe appear offering him France in its orig- 
inal condition under Louis XIV., but backed by one of his 
Marshals and his Mameluke, he refuses the tender, and de- 
cides to contend against them for universal empire. The 
figure of Napoleon and his expression is very fine without 
being theatrical, and his whole appearance in his plain gray 
coat is in striking contrast with the overloaded trappings and 
gold lace of his regular cotemporaries. For quiet grandeur 
and natural majesty, however, there is no figure in the col- 
lection which equals the dignity of Washington. The Repub- 



MADAME TUSSAUD's. 91 

lican President looms among the tame and tawdry kings like 
a demigod, with a placid calmness and clear look of wisdom, 
which the imagination accords only to the front of Jove. 
Nevertheless, the likeness is exact, and is a true copy of 
Stewart's celebrated picture. 

The examination of this exhibition had tested me up to 
the full point of fatigue, and as it was already five o'clock, I 
felt entitled to the refreshment and repose of dinner. This 
was the more necessary, as it was opera night at the Royal 
Haymarket, and I stood engaged and ticketed to go. I 
ordered my coupee, therefore, to drive to my hotel, and at 
eight o'clock, after being duly recuperated and attired, fouud 
myself with two friends among the musical moths of Lon- 
don, listening to La Blache in Don Pasquale. 

On coming out of the opera, my two friends and I did 
not choose to ride, as -our hotel was but two squares away, 
so we walked leisurely down to the crossing, twirling our 
white kids complacently in our hands as we imperturbably 
ran the gauntlet of some fifty coachmen, who would have 
waited upon us with the greatest pleasure in life. When 
we attempted to cross the street there was not a vehicle 
moving, and we all remarked the peculiar stillness of the 
night. We had not got twenty steps from the curbstone, 
however, before there came a rush of coaches, which whirled 
around us like a flourish of the chariots of Darius. Startled 
at this sudden bustle, we paused for a minute, and then 
scampered on; but whiz came the vehicles again, darting 
forward and backward, and cross-cutting us in all directions. 
Panic-stricken, to a certain extent, each man then struck for 
himself, and succeeded in reaching a refuge of stone posts 
at a monument of George III., in the centre of the square. 
" I don't know what to make of this," said onefof my friends. 
" Everything was still a moment ago, and the opera is not 



92 KUEOPE IK A HURRY. 

yet out. "Where do all these coaches come from V " Let 
us try again," said I, seeing an opening in the direction of 
the opposite walk. Upon this we started once more, but we 
had no sooner moved from our place of refuge, than the 
vehicles came whizzing and spinning around again, like the 
cars in the Hippodrome, when it suddenly flashed upon me 
that the coaches were all after us. The drivers could not 
persuade themselves that three gentlemen, in full dress, from 
the Grand Opera, intended to walk home, and they were 
determined to run us down for a fare. When the full force 
of the chase came upon me, I was struck with alarm. One 
of my friends had a large family in New York, and the 
other was quite distinguished as a barrister, whom society 
could not spare. As for myself, I had too many settlements 
to enforce in my favor against the world, to be ready to die 
yet ; so I shoute'd out as promptly as possible — " By Heaven ! 
Vandevoort, they are after us. Look sharp and save your- 
self if you can !" Upon this we braced ourselves for a last 
effort, and succeeded in reaching the sidewalk, within a 
few seconds of each other, safe, but out of breath. I shall 
ever regard this as one of the most hair-breadth escapes of 
my life. 



London, June, 1851. 
Westminster Abbey and the Tower. 

Among all the grandeurs and curiosities of London, the 
two places which I have found most worthy of a visit, are 
Westminster Abbey and the Tower. In either of these you 
are enabled to make an actual leap back into the ideas of 
your youth, and to enjoy, with accumulated force, that 
acuteness of appreciation, which translates you always to 
the scene of your attention, and places you alongside the 
characters you read of, as if you were one of themselves. 
This faculty, in its perfection, is the peculiar privilege of 
the imagination, before its finer qualities are leased and 
parcelled out to the coarser cares of life, and when it comes 
back to you at intervals, in after years, it seems as if you 
had been returned to another world, in which you had once 
owned a personal interest, and passed an earlier probation 
of existence. 

As soon as you enter the portals of the Tower or the 
Abbey and behold their silent mementoes and solemn monu- 
ments, the outer world slips away, and the princes and the 
knights, who absorbed your young fancy with their splendor 
or their deeds, turn in their dusty graves to hand you the 
moral of their story. As you walk among them in the 



94 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

Abbey, and see how little is left to them of their former 
state, as they lie clustered together, with the candles out, 
and the masses hushed, which many of them had decreed 
should be maintained forever, you feel impressed in a pecu- 
liar manner, with the vanity of life ; and your ambition, if 
you have any, receives many a severe knock in the ribs, at 
the utter inadequacy of its hopes. Even the honor of being 
shelved among a lot of dusty kings, against whose tombs 
the commonest fellow kicks his heels, and over whose 
uninspected heads, a chattering guide drops a few morsels 
of biography, is inferior to a ticket at the exhibition, or even 
the privilege of selling tarts (and now and then eating one,) 
in Rotten Row. The real rewards of power and success 
must be gathered, good friends, while you have the world 
face to face, and the only care beyond that, should be to see 
that heaven takes care of your soul ; for when a man is not, 
he is very soon forgot. 

The first morning I visited Westminster Abbey, was the 
anniversary of the restoration of King Charles the Second, 
and I was refused admission, until a solemn sacrament of 
thanksgiving in honor of the event, was performed inside. 
I, therefore, had an opportunity to occupy an extra half 
hour in observing the exterior architecture of the building, 
and to spend a few minutes beside an open grave, from 
which a fellow, who might have figured as one of Shakspeare's 
grave-diggers, was throwing a rank mould, filled with frag- 
ments of crumbling bones, out in the air. The hole had 
evidently been enriched with many a tenant, and the bits of 
mortality that now rolled and tumbled together, were 
doubtless the parts of proud men and dainty women, who 
were much nicer of such mixing of their shins, when the 
sun last shone upon them, and they moved about in all the 
glory of their blood and beauty. Death is a sad democrat. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 



95 



Westminster Abbey was built in the tenth century ; and, 
in the language of the chronicle, " nine centuries have passed 
away, since Henry the Third piously raised its many clus- 
tered shafts and pointed arches to heaven." In different 
ages, additions have been made, and, like Notre Dame at 
Paris, as described by Victor Hugo, each generation seems 
to have maae a deposite on the structure, and written the 
history of its taste in the stratum it contributed. There is, 
however, nothing incongruous in the appearance of either 
building ; on the contrary, everything falls softly and har- 
moniously on the eye, and a venerable grandeur and elabo- 
rate art pervade the whole. The most considerable addition 
to Westminster was made by Henry the Seventh, in what 
is termed Henry the Seventh's Chapel. This building, of 
entire marble, is celebrated for its luxuriance of chisseling, 
and particularly celebrated for its pendentive roof, which, 
though of massive stone, is poised on its own angles in the 
air, and hangs secure in ponderous repose, without the sup- 
port of a column or a beam. By the side of this chapel, you 
enter the abbey at a small door, in what is called the Poet's 
Corner, and a half dozen steps place you in the cloistered 
nook, where lie, in fraternal closeness, the ashes of Milton, 
Chaucer, Spenser, Pope, Butler, Dryden, Cowley, Thomp- 
son, Ben Jonson, Gay, Goldsmith, Addison, and a host of 
other names, familiar to the readers of English literature. 
Shakspeare, the master of them all, has but an empty ceno- 
taph, the monument having been put here for the pride of 
the Abbey, and not for his. His bones, protected by a con- 
ditional curse, repose in quiet in their native mould. Byron 
is still absent, the wretched Phariseeism of the moral vestry, 
(who to-day order sacrament to Charles the Second,) refusing 
him a place. But by-and-by, however, he will come in. 

As you advance from the Poet's Corner, you come to an 



90 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

iron rail, which bars you from Henry the Seventh's and the 
cloistered chapels, but a smooth-faced fellow in a black 
gown, is ready to unlatch the gate at the usual English open 
sesame of a piece of silver, and to show you round among 
the kings and barons. In a part of this enclosure you have 
the chapel of that pious charlatan Edward the Confessor. 
Here the pilgrim king lies in melancholy dilapidation from 
the original pomp of his sarcophagus ; while, near at hand, 
in similar neglect, is stretched Henry the Third, and Eleanor 
wife of Edward, in blackened brass. The wax candles which 
were to have been kept alive on Eleanor's tomb, have gone 
out, and even Henry the Eifth, the Prince Hal of Shak- 
speare, who was so potent against the French, has lost the 
poor service of the lights which he decreed should burn ; 
and now that he has no more rewards to give, or neglects to 
punish, no lips pursue the pious pains of accomplishing his 
wishes, in asking mercy for his soul. But perhaps there is 
no need. Things have changed in the Abbey since he died ; 
and, for aught we know, the change may be quite agreeable 
to some new state of progress where he is. At any rate he 
rests quiet in his cobwebs, and makes no complaint. Edward 
the Third, the conqueror of Calais, lies hard by Henry the 
Fifth ; and next door to him, in the same chapel, reposes 
the unfortunate Richard the Second, and his first queen, 
Anne. This chapel is likewise noted for the Coronation 
Chairs, in which the Kings and Queens of England have been 
crowned, and also for the Sword of State that was borne 
before Edward the Third in France. King Sebert, the 
reputed founder of the Abbey, Crouchback, and Aymer de 
Valence, also share this chapel. 

In Henry the Seventh's Chapel, the most notable sepul- 
tures are those of the founder and his queen ; Edward VI. ; 
Gen. Monk, of Cromwell's time ; Charles II. ; Queen Eliza- 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 97 

beth ; Bloody Mary ; James I., and Anne of Denmark, lie 
around them. The rest throughout the church are more or 
less worthy of- notice, but the scope of this letter will not 
permit me to commence an enumeration of even the most 
distinguished. Some of the tombs are very fine in design 
and ornament, but it is worthy of remark that in general the 
most inconsiderable personages have the finest sepultures. 
When you observe this fact, you will be struck with the 
inadequacy of Shakspeare's monument, in measure with his 
genius. I cannot do better than to close this notice of West- 
minster Abbey, by the concluding lines of Addison's cele- 
brated paper on this place : 

" When I look upon the tombs of the great," says he, 
" every emotion of envy dies in me. When I see kings 
lying by those who deposed them ; when I consider rival 
wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the 
world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow 
and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and 
debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the 
tombs — of some that died yesterday, and some six hun- 
dred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall 
all of us be cotemporaries, and make our appearance 
together." 

The Tower, which may be considered the great rival of 
Westminster Abbey in historical associations, is built upon 
the banks of the Thames, and unites the characters of a 
fortress, a palace, a prison, and a tomb. Its nearest coun- 
terpart, perhaps, in Europe, was the Bastile of Paris, but 
even that was less reverend in age, and already it has passed 
away. Opinions differ as to the antiquity of the Tower. 
Some contend that it was built by Julius Ceesar at the open- 
ing of the Christian era ; while others ascribe its foundation 
to William the Conqueror, who came in in 1060. It is 



98 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

worthy of observation, however, that Fitz Stephen, its 
earliest chronicler, who lived in the twelfth century, is not 
able to say to whom it owed its commencement. He de- 
scribes it as " a Tower Palatine, very large and very strong, 
whose court and walls rise up from a deep foundation, and 
the mortar of which is tempered with the blood of beasts." 
" Whether the writer intended this to bear a literal mean- 
ing," says the author of the handbook, which you buy at 
the gate, " or to convey thereby a bold metaphor of the dark 
purposes to which the Tower of London was devoted, must 
of course be left to the judgment or fancy of the reader." 
Certain it is, that enough human blood has since flowed 
within its walls, to have served the purposes of cementing 
double such a pile. You find soldiers on guard at the en- 
trance, where formerly stood " the Lion's Gate," and the 
entire establishment is manned as in the olden time. Within 
a few steps of the gate you stop at a small office, where you 
purchase a ticket at sixpence, for the privilege of being 
shown by a warder through the main buildings, and you 
give sixpence for another ticket for admission to what is 
called the Jewel Room, where are kept the regalia and 
jewels of the British crown. Sixpence more is spent in the 
purchase of an exceedingly well-written handbook, from 
which I have already quoted, describing the history and curi- 
osities of the building, and you are then quite ready for your 
tour of observation. 

Being thus qualified, you are consigned to the charge of 
one of the numerous w r arders, who are moving about in 
scarlet and laced coats, something like herald's tunics, and 
who, after w r aiting until some twelve or fifteen visitors are 
collected, sets out with you upon your round. You pass 
first through the gate of the Middle Tower, and cross the 
moat, which passage may be seen very accurately repre- 



THE TOWER. 99 

sented in one of the scenes of Shakspeare's Richard the 
Third, as performed at the Broadway and Bowery theatres. 
This passage brings you to the Byward Tower, and next to 
the Bell Tower, which was the prison of the Bishop of Ro- 
chester, who it will be recollected suffered martyrdom in 
1535, rather than acknowledge the supremacy of Henry the 
Eighth as the head of the church. The next object of in- 
terest is the Traitor's Gate, through which state prisoners 
were privately conveyed by means of a secret canal, that 
had communication with the Thames. You next come to 
the Bloody Tower, so named from the tradition that within 
its gloomy walls the two young princes of the House of 
York, were murdered by their ruthless and aspiring uncle, 
Gloucester. By it is the Wakefield Tower, said to have been 
built by William Rufus. Passing this, you come to the site 
of the Grand Storehouse of arms, which was destroyed by 
fire in 1841, to the loss of 11,000 muskets, 12,000 pistols, 
and an innumerable quantity of swords, carbines, cuirasses, 
and small arms. Facing the Storehouse is the White Tower, 
through a side door of which you enter the Horse Armory, 
the most interesting hall in the entire pile. 

Here you have arranged in grim array, the figures of the 
kings and most puissant nobles of the olden time, clothed 
in complete mail, mounted on their war horses, with lance 
in rest, or sword in hand, most of them with visor down, as 
if ready for the sound of the trumpet to prance in the tour- 
nament, or charge upon the battle-field. Many of these 
suits of armor are the veritable ones that were worn by him 
whose name and banner is pendant overhead, and they afford 
a fine study not only for the antiquary, but for the author 
and artist who wish to enrich their minds for historical pro- 
ductions. First in this iron phalanx, sits, in saddle, Edward 
I. of the time of 1272, in a hauberk, with sleeves and chaus- 



100 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

ses, and a hood with a camail or flexible cape of steel, hang- 
ing over the shoulders. This style was of Asiatic origin, 
and was supposed to have been worn by the warlike but 
cruel monarch in his invasions of Scotland, and battles 
against the French. The next is Henry VI. of the time of 
1450, the tame king, who perished in this very building, 
where his empty semblance is now set up, in a style so at 
variance with his temper. Horse and rider are both covered 
with mail, and the latter bears a pole-axe in his hand. 
Edward IV. (1465) bears a tilting lance, and appears attired 
for the tournament. The armor is heavier than that used 
for the field, and also, as was the custom for such gallant 
entertainments, more complete. Next come two knights 
of the time of Richard III. and Henry VII. the first in ribbed, 
and the next in fluted armor, wearing the helmet known as 
the burgonet. Another figure of the same era follows, who 
bears a sword in hand, and at whose saddle bow hangs a 
ponderous battle-axe, armed with steel front and cantle. 
Henry VIII. (1520) the English Caligula, sits mounted in the 
veritable iron mail he used to wear. The suit is damasked 
and is complete steel from crown to toe. An iron mace is 
in his right hand, a long sword at his waist, and a short one 
hangs from the saddle-bow. He seems as decent as the rest, 
and none of the innocent blood he shed appears upon his 
casque or buckler. Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, 
(1520) and the Earl of Lincoln, (1530,) follow in the same 
style; and after them comes Edward VI., (1552,) in a suit 
of russet steel. Next we have Francis Hastings, Earl of 
Huntingdon, of the time of Bloody Mary, the weight of 
whose suit of armor is one hundred pounds, of which the 
helmet weighs fourteen. Robert Dudley, the Earl of Lei- 
cester, and celebrated court favorite of Queen Elizabeth, 
comes next in the actual armor in which he used to appear 



THE TOWER 



101 



before his royal mistress, when attired for the tournaments. 
The reader will recollect the peculiar interest that has been 
given to his character, in Sir Walter Scott's novel of Kenil- 
worth. Sir Henry Lea, champion to Queen Elizabeth, and 
Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, of the same period, are 
next in order. This latter nobleman was a sort of rival to 
the Earl of Leicester, but after a period of great favor with 
the queen, the tide then turned against him, and he was 
executed in the Tower. , James I. (1605,) who could not 
bear the sight of a drawn sword while he lived, appears in 
a suit of tilting armor, with a long bourdon, or lance, for 
running at a ring. Sir Horace Vere and Thomas Howard, 
Earl of Arundel, (1608,) in cap-a-pie armor, and each armed 
with an iron mace, come next. Henry, Prince of Wales ; 
George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham ; Charles, Prince of 
Wales ; and Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, all of 
the same period, follow each other in line. The armor of 
the latter comes no lower than the knees, and buff boots 
take the place of groved jambs and sollerets for the calves 
and feet. Last of all in the equestrian array, appear Charles 
I. (1640,) and the weak and drivelling James II.. (1685). 
Both of these suits were the property of these two monarchs. 
The former is very complete in its array, but the latter con- 
sists only of a casque and cuirass, while the buff gloves and 
jack boots mark the gradual abandonment of iron mail. 
There are many other figures of knights and men-at-arms, on 
foot, and also a profuse collection of arms and armor of all 
kinds in this hall, and its adjoining vestibules, all of which 
are very interesting and very useful to the literary visitor. 

From the Horse Armory you are conducted into " Queen 
Elizabeth's Armory," where you are shown a complete 
collection of ancient weapons. Here you see the glaive, 
the cross-bow, the pike, the black-bill, the pole axe, boar- 



102 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

spear, lochaber axe, the halberd, the military flail, the catch- 
pole, ranseur and spetum (weapons for cutting bridles), the 
spear, linstock, the partisan, shields, targets, two-hand < ) 
swords, rapiers, the battle-axe, marteaux d'armes, two- 
handed mace, prods for discharging stones, and instruments 
of punishment and torture. 

Among these latter horrors you have the stocks, the bil- 
boes for linking prisoners by the ankles, the thumb-screw, 
the iron collar of torment, and the cravat, or scavenger's 
daughter. This latter instrument drew the head, and hands 
and feet together, and laid a man aside as if he were a sheep 
in the shambles. After gazing on these shocking artifices 
for a few moments, a gentleman of our party turned to the 
warden, with an air of great simplicity, and asked him where 
the instruments of torture were kept which were used in the 
present day *? 

The most notable things in this gallery are, a horrible 
cell, without crack or mutilation — a mere cave in a stone- 
pit — which is said to have been the residence of Sir Walter 
Raleigh ; the heading block and axe with which Lords Bal- 
merino, Kilmarnock and Lovat, were executed on Tower 
Hill, in 1746, and the blade which divided the neck of the 
unfortunate Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex. The cuts 
of the ponderous blades are still in the block, as it received 
them through the necks of the victims ; and as you look 
closely at it, you fancy you can see stains of the crimson 
flood that followed their trenchant stroke. I felt a peculiar 
interest in inspecting these relics of the past, and invariably 
found myself lingering in the rear of the exploring party. 
I read again the history of England in its darkest passages, 
and at every step I found myself traveling again with Frois- 
sart, Shakspeare, Hume, and Walter Scott. I was impressed 
the while with the great advantage which such receptacles 



THE TOWER. 103 

and museums give to the writers of Europe, over those of 
the United States. Every article suggests an incident ; 
every figure is the foundation of a story. The very walls 
and stones teem with a spirit of romance, and when the 
fervor of writing is once aroused, here are the means to 
invigorate the tale, and the minutiae to give it particularity 
and color. In America we have no such helps, and imagi- 
nation turns to journalism for its extension, or it practices 
lying in the way of politics. Our only field for high lite- 
rary taste is Reason, and until we have a Past, and a sedi- 
ment of history to rake over, it is probable our romance 
writers will be fewer, in comparison to our population, than 
those of that class in the old world. A nation which is con- 
tinually looking ahead is more likely to conceive moon- 
hoaxes, and to devise magnetic telegraphs, than to raise the 
dead with a Gillott's pen, or to make poetry to be read in 
slippers and curl-papers. 

The next object of interest in the Tower is the chapel of 
St. Peter, ad vinculo,, erected by Edward I., where lie the 
remains of the Bishop of Rochester, Sir Thomas Moore, 
Anne Boleyn, Lord Rochford, Catharine Howard, the Coun- 
tess of Salisbury, who was the last of the whole blood of the 
Plantagenets, Cromwell and Devereux, Earl of Essex, the 
good Protector, Edward Duke of Somerset, Lady Jane 
Grey and her husband, " with a long train of others, who 
bled on the adjoining hill, or on the fatal green in front." 
Opposite the church is a building containing a room where 
the conspirators in the famous Gunpowder Plot were exam- 
ined, and between this and the church is the gloomy Cobham 
Tower. This, from its foundation in the time of John, has 
been used as the principal prison, and its walls are covered 
with the original autographs of its unlucky tenants. The 
inside of this I could not see ; " but here," says the hand- 



104 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

book, " among others, are the names of John Dudley Earl 
of Warwick, Philip Howard Earl of Arundel, Robert Dud- 
ley Earl of Leicester, Charles Bailly agent of Mary of 
Scotland ; and here is also found the word Jane, that is 
commonly ascribed to the hand of Lady Jane Grey." There 
were other towers also, but being in use by the garrison, 
they w r ere not shown. These are the Beauchamp or Devil's 
Tower, the Broad Arrow r and Salt Towers, the Flint, the 
Brick and the Bowyer. The latter is said to have been the 
scene of Clarence's murder, by drowning in a butt of Malm- 
sey, and it takes its name from being anciently occupied by 
the master of the bowyers, or bowmen of the king. 

The concluding exhibition in the Tower, on the part of the 
warder, is the regalia of Great Britain. They are kept in a 
strong room in the Governor's House, which is more like a 
cell than an apartment suited to such a brilliant destiny, and 
the jewels themselves are further protected by a great iron 
cage, or fence, which keeps you at a respectful distance from 
the large glass case, that holds the treasures. They consist 
of the crown made for Charles the Second, the old emblem 
of sovereignty having been broken up in Cromwell's wars ; 
the ancient queen's crown ; the queen's diadem ; the Prince 
of Wales' crown ; Saint Edward's staff, of pure gold, four 
feet and seven inches long, surmounted by an orb and cross. 
In the orb is said to be deposited a fragment of the true 
cross; another royal sceptre, two feet and nine inches in 
length ; three more golden, and one ivory sceptre, profusely 
set with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones ; two 
orbs, one heavy and one light, to place in the left hand of the 
king or queen, as the case maybe, at the time of coronation, 
and the crown of the present queen, which is said to be 
worth a million of pounds. The magnificence of this latter 
article reminds you of your early notions of the caves of the 



THE TOWER. 105 

Genii and Aladdin's' bowl of jewels. Then comes the state 
swords of Mercy and of Justice ; the anointing spoon, the bap- 
tismal font and sacramental plate ; the ampulise, or Golden 
Eagle, and many other things which would not profit the 
reader to have enumerated here. The whole is a dazzling 
galaxy, but superb as it is, it is not calculated to make that 
impression upon an American which it will upon an English- 
man. There are no associations with those things which 
command our awe, or excite any but the momentary inter- 
est of the eye. After that is satisfied, if any impression 
clings, it is rather one of contempt than of respect. We 
smile at the pains that have been taken to give a fictitious 
importance to persons of very indifferent qualities, and we 
may perhaps be reminded that the Queen, for whom the 
most costly ornaments of all were made, has not, in her whole 
reign, said a single thing which has been found worthy of 
being repeated to her subjects. The orbs and sceptres, and 
blazing diadem, do not therefore arouse the sentiments in us 
which are inspired by the more purely historical departments 
of the pile, and we pass them by with such a word of won- 
der, as would be elicited from us by a superb jeweller's col- 
lection. English people, however, go more eagerly to this 
portion of the Tower than to any other. They look with a 
sort of veneration on those shining emblems, and while 
gazing on them, seem to be wrapt in awful admiration. A 
beautiful American lady, who, as she turned from the exam- 
ination of Victoria's diadem, exclaimed, "Well, I'd rather 
have the crown than be the Queen," was stared at suddenly 
by the English who were present, as if they regarded her as 
some nondescript with a diseased imagination. But she was 
sound. With or without it, she could be more a queen 
in the United States than Queen Victoria in England. With 
this incident, concluded my peregrinations in the Tower. 

5* """^ 



London, June, 1851. 

English Social Scale — The Parks of London — The Cremorne 
Gardens. 

The greatness of London grows upon me every day. 
The more I see of it, the more its vastness stretches out, as 
if it were determined to defeat all hope of encompassing it 
within the period of any reasonable stay. I am inclined to 
think, however, that there is a little bit of Yankee trickery, 
or management, if a softer term is to be preferred, in 
enhancing its extent, and in magnifying its wonders, on the 
part of those who have its principal curiosities in charge. 
There are certain things which can only be seen on given 
days and at given hours, and you generally find these days 
and places so dispersed, that those which meet in time, are 
situated at the opposite extremities of the city, so that not 
more than two or three of them can be seen in a day. The 
result is, that you are obliged to remain in town three or four 
weeks to complete your observations of its principal public 
features alone, and to contribute a large per diem stipend to 
the revenue, in the taxable food you eat, the taxable exhibi- 
tions you behold, and the taxable vehicles you ride in. With 
all John Bull's affected indifference to the almighty dollar, 



ENGLISH SOCIAL SCALE. 107 

his pursuit after it, into your pocket, is quite as eager and 
ingenious as any that is instituted by his Brother Jona- 
than, with the simple difference, that while he strikes deeper 
and draws heavier, he is not so frank as to confess that his 
object is to chisel you. I discovered this method of the con- 
version of space into profit and delay, most particularly by 
the cards of special admission to palaces and museums, fur- 
nished me by the American Minister; and, as these are 
arranged and furnished to the Minister for his friends, by the 
governmental departments, it is not impossible that the sys- 
tem is conceived at fountain head. It is true that many of 
the places to which these ambassadorial favors grant you 
entrance, are free from direct subsidy, but their arrangement 
contributes to delay, and the taxable food which you con- 
sume makes you a very profitable boarder to the State. If 
this supposition is correct, it is not strange that Mr. Abbott 
Lawrence is popular with the Government, for he lives at 
the rate of fifty thousand dollars a year himself; and he thus 
sets an example that is very wholesome to the revenue. 
His example, however, will not be found so wholesome by 
his successor, whoever he may be ; for if he be not as opu- 
lent as a prince, he will be obliged to live in comparative 
obscurity, and must cut a very sorry figure. Unless, there- 
fore, the next mission from the United States to the Court 
of St. James be given to a millionaire, it had better be con- 
ferred upon some plain citizen, who will exhibit that other 
phase of dignity, which is comprised in unostentatious repub- 
lican simplicity. To render the residence of such a man 
tolerable to himself, however, it will be necessary that he 
should be a bachelor, for coaches and diamonds are indis- 
pensable concomitants for ladies in this meridian of splendor. 
This allusion to the American minister suggests to me 
the subject of passports, and that suggests the equally im- 



108 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

portant provision of a proper arrangement of your funds for 
facility in traveling. The best course to pursue in this 
latter respect, is to deposit the sum which you intend to 
allow yourself, with some New York agent of a London 
banking house, (say an agent of George Peabody, the opu- 
lent and truly patriotic American resident banker,) who will 
give you a letter of credit for the amount, subject to the 
difference in exchange, and who will allow you interest at 
the rate of six per cent for all the moneys you do not draw. 
On arriving in London, you make out the route you intend 
to travel, and the London House gives you a letter of credit 
to their various agents in the principal cities of the conti- 
nent. This obviates the inconvenience of carrying a large 
sum about with you, and you replenish yourself at your 
stopping places as you go along, according to your wants, 
with the reduction inscribed upon your letter. You draw 
by this means the currency of the country you are in, and 
even if you lose your letter, the production of your signa- 
ture (fac similes of which have been forwarded in advance 
of you to the various agents,) and a reference to the last 
and nearest house you draw upon, will remedy the misfor- 
tune. If, however, the rate of exchange be in your favor in 
New York, or if sovereigns may be purchased to advantage 
there at the time of your departure, you may bring out 
British gold or bills on London, and make your original 
deposit with the London Banker. For this latter course, it 
will be necessary for you to obtain a letter of introduction 
to the London House, or to secure a proper introduction 
from some reputable person here, as your banker is to a 
certain extent, answerable for your character, and not wil- 
ling to furnish an endorsement throughout Europe to a 
stranger. I pursued this latter course, and can recommend 
it to American travelers as a convenient one. 



THE PARKS OF LONDON. 109 

Passports are the next requisite for continental travelers ; 
indeed, after leaving England, they are as indispensable as 
money. These maybe obtained at the office of the American 
minister, with the same facility as in New York, the only 
conditions being an identification here, as in New York, that 
you are yourself. You leave your statement with the 
minister's secretary, as to the countries you intend to visit, 
and in two days time he sends you your credentials, neatly 
done up in pocket-book form, to protect it from wear and 
tear, properly vise, or endorsed, by all the resident em- 
bassies from Paris to Constantinople. The price of this ser- 
vice is $3,50. After this you have no further trouble in the 
passport way, except to hand out the document, whenever 
it is demanded, and pay an occasional fee as you go along. 
I made this provision one of my earliest cares, and would 
recommend it to a traveler as his first task, in order that he 
may be at liberty to leave for the continent whenever it 
may suit his fancy. A neglect of this precaution may in- 
terfere with a sudden inclination to join a party, and throw 
you a day or two in the lurch. 

On the morning of the day on which I made this my 
business, I took advantage of an allotted leisure to visit the 
various parks of London. They may well be called the 
lungs of the city, for they slip you out of the grime and 
pressure of the stifled thoroughfares, into the broad green 
fields, and exchange in a moment the harassing clatter of 
rough drays and distracted cabs, for quiet verdure and the 
muffled roll of stately vehicles over soft and even paths. 
I think, however, the supposition that they were intended 
for the ventilation of the city, or for the pleasure of the 
people at large, is erroneous. They are rather theatres, 
provided for a wasteful aristocracy to vie with each other in 
the pride of equipage, and wheel away, in languid state, a 



110 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

few of the hours which rot in their existence. They are 
some of them prohibited to men in livery without their 
masters, to persons with bundles, and to dogs. Mark the 
association, and compare it with the affected horror, by the 
English, at our inhumanity, because we will not raise the 
slave to a state of social and political equality. There is no 
quality, condition, or state, which an Englishman so tho- 
roughly despises as poverty. His most favorite expression 
of extreme contempt is, " get out, you beggar /" and it is 
therefore not to be supposed, that in a state of society like 
this, gardens three and four miles round, with graveled 
carriage paths and flowering borders, were laid out for the 
benefit of men who work six days in the week, or out of 
consideration for those who carry bundles and who are 
classified with dogs. This sentiment towards wealth and 
poverty runs through all classes of society ; and the strata 
respect each other by degrees. The man with six thousand 
a year looks askant at the man who has but five; and he or 
she who has five, feels entitled to exhibit a shade of con- 
descension towards the person who has only four. In the 
same way live the tradesmen and the shopkeepers, and from 
them the rule descends to the under orders of the working 
people. Indeed, these distinctions are fostered and en- 
couraged from the Crown to the shoe brush with the utmost 
care, and society is a succession of steps, over a number of 
which each class are born to walk, except the Crown, and 
that walks over all. I will give an instance or two, now 
that they are handy, in the way of familiar illustration. A 
certain Duke, whose greatness is really so small that I have 
forgotten his name, keeps one hundred and thirty servants, 
which, by-the-by, is just the number of the Queen's horses. 
The first class of these servants are allowed to drink wine 
from the cellar. The second class drink ale ; the third class 



THE PARKS OF LONDON. Ill 

wait upon the first ; the second wait upon themselves ; and 
so the routine goes. This system is carefully kept up in all 
the ramifications of life, by way of infusing into the very 
existence of the subject the necessity of social distinctness ; 
of saturating him, as it were, with these compromises of the 
constitution in their very ale and wine. One class bends, 
and the other rides over it, booted and spurred — hereditary 
horsemen ; hereditary scrubs. 

As an illustration of the esteem in which humble condi- 
tion is regarded, I need only to refer to the fact, that to try 
the strength of the galleries of the Crystal Palace, before it 
was thrown open to the public, regiments of soldiers were 
marched in and directed to run in a mass, and with a regu- 
lar step, across them all, so that the girders should be 
wrenched to their utmost powers by the regular and violent 
swing of such a mass. The pretense was to test their secu- 
rity for the people ; but the safety of the soldiers, who were 
of the people, was never once thought of. They were in the 
pay of the government at so much a day. A drove of 
cattle would 'have accomplished the test as well, but the 
soldiers were the most handy, and, as I said before, they 
were already in the service of the government. One more 
example, and I have done. A gentleman, whose soirees are 
chronicled in the newspapers under the head of fashionable 
life, desired to make my acquaintance, and sent me his card 
of invitation by the hands of a highly intelligent, and indeed 
educated bookseller of Paternoster Row, to whom I had 
brought a letter. I went with the bookseller to the gentle- 
man's house, and in the presence of my friend he gave me 
a most pressing invitation to dine with him at his villa at 
Hammersmith, enhancing the request by the representation 
that I would have the pleasure of meeting, at the same time, 
with several of the Commissioners of the Great Exhibition 



112 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

from various countries, whom it would be interesting for 
me to know. Unfortunately I was forced to decline, from a 
previous apportionment of the whole of my time between 
that and my departure for Paris. When I came out, my 
friend the bookseller was much chagrined. 

" You have lost a great treat," said he ; " I have known 
that gentleman for fifteen years, and he has never made 
me such an offer ; nor would he if I should know him fifteen 
years more." 

" And why not V said I, suddenly recollecting that the 
invitation had not been extended beyond myself. 

" Because of my shop," said my friend mildly ; " that 
fixes me in one position for my life." 

And yet this gentleman was the friend of the bookseller, 
and the bookseller w T as a worthy companion for any man 
alive. Nevertheless, the bookseller did not feel that he had 
undergone a slight, for he knew that the gentleman had the 
feelings of his circle to consult as well as his own. 

Such is the repugnant state of English society. Such are 
the shameful compromises by which they maintain the un- 
wieldy dignity of condition. There is much here to admire, 
much to respect, and some few things to copy, but the closer 
I view the English social system and the consequences that 
flow from it, the stronger I feel the warrant for an expres- 
sion which I used in a former letter ; " that the more an 
American sees of foreign countries, the more he is sure to 
love his own." These gilded creatures whom I have just 
brought the reader into Hyde Park to see ; these idle shoots 
from the hotbeds of luxury ; these painted weeds which 
neither toil nor spin, can never draw one breath of the pure 
joy which a man of vigorous perception knows, who feels 
that there are no degrees between him and the gods. They 
cannot approximate to it; they blister with envy; they 



THE PARKS OF LONDON. 113 

sigh with discontent ; and every new equipage with which 
some more opulent neighbor rolls by, but reminds them that 
they are a step or two behind on the pyramid of public esti- 
mation. 

Of all the parks, Hyde Park is the best. More pains and 
more expense has been bestowed upon it than on the others, 
and it is the fashionable drive. Its grounds are laid out so 
as to embrace all kinds of scenery ; a river (the Serpentine) 
has been cut and trained in its centre, and on its waters sits 
a miniature frigate, the illusion of which is so perfect at the 
distance of a few hundred yards, that it seems to be an actual 
man-of-war of regular size. Through the winding walks of 
this grand theatre of fashion, the coaches of the aristocracy 
roll with their titled passengers, and here is to be seen the 
best London assortment of* English beauty, and the highest 
description of aristocratic pride. 

Judging from the show which they make in this place, 
one would hardly suppose that they had emerged from the 
black and rusty looking buildings which serve for their 
town residences. These always discourage the new observer 
by their aspect, and appear to be rather fitted for soldiers' 
barracks or dusty manufactories than lordly palaces. The 
interior, however, redeems the inadequacy of the outside, 
and there splendor reigns so exuberantly over every inch 
of space, that the contrast with the exterior becomes in 
many instances grotesque. This contrast is very striking 
in the town palace of the opulent Duke of Northumberland, 
to which I was fortunate enough to receive an ambassadorial 
favor of admission. The outside, which faces on Trafalgar 
Square, is far inferior in appearance to the fine hotel directly 
opposite, in which I now reside, and may be very appro- 
priately described by the word scaly. The only thing which 
redeems its dingy and plain facade, is a noble lion that 



114 



EUROPE IN A HURRY 



stands on the top of the building over the main entrance, 
and who is worthy of this special mention from the fact that 
he has changed his position since he was put up, and in con- 
sequence of a quarrel between the old dukes of Northum- 
berland and Somerset, now stands with his waving tail, 
instead of his head, towards the palace of the latter, in dig- 
nified contempt. This facade is, however, a mere scarf or 
curtain to the main building, separated by a court-yard, and 
after entering into which you find yourself plunged in a 
splendor which exceeds by far any examples of display you 
have been able to meet with in the new world. Columns 
of porphyry, walls of marble, staircases wide enough for a 
coronation train, rooms lined with mirrors, saloons clothed 
with tapestry of rarest manufacture, dining and dancing 
halls covered with vast paintings from the choicest masters, 
rare cabinets, voluptuous ottomans, niches filled with statues 
which have consumed the delicate labor of half an artist's 
life, and vases w r hose single cost would carry any measure 
through the New York Common Council, against the protest 
of the people, are the predominant features of the scene ; 
while throughout all is preserved an agreement and a har- 
mony of splendor which subdues excess, and prevents it from 
offending the eye. Those who imagine that w r e have corres- 
ponding finery at home, may correct their views at once, for 
where the majority of our wealthy men end the last figure 
of their fortunes, these English nobles do not begin to 
reckon theirs. Their original establishment, alone, would 
bankrupt most of our Upper Ten. It is to be hoped that 
things may long remain in this condition, for a healthy pros- 
perity on our part demands it. As things stand now, any 
attempt to imitate it w r ould be vain, and our highest aspira- 
tions should be for an elegant simplicity w 7 hich may conform 



THE CREMORNE GARDENS. 115 

to republican notions, at the same time that it gratifies the 
true limits of a rational taste. 

Having now extended my observations upon London, 
and on London life, to pretty liberal extent for a period of 
three weeks, I have but two or three features to speak of in 
the present series of letters, before I change the scene. One 
of these consists in the evening amusements of that portion 
of the people who cannot go to the opera, and another in a 
glimpse of that horrid phase of social debasement, which is 
found in the dens of misery and crime. I have already fur- 
nished a notion of the sort of enjoyment which the clerks, 
shopkeepers, and better class of working people, seek at 
Vauxhall and the Amphitheatres ; but at present, the best 
of these popular resorts, and the one that offers the greatest 
variety of characters as an amusement, is me Cremone Gar- 
dens. These Gardens are situated at an extremity of the 
city, which is reached by omnibuses and steamboats, and 
whatever the appearance of the night, they are generally 
thronged with company. The entrance fee is one shilling, 
and for this sum you have a lively vaudeville, very well per- 
formed, succeeded by a ball in the open air, attended and 
enjoyed by a mixture of all sorts of people. After that 
follows an exhibition of the Bedouin Arabs, in a distant 
portion of the Garden, to which the people stream in crowds 
as soon as the dance ceases. Then comes a display of the 
poses plastiques, or dissolving views of a most finished 
character ; the dance intervenes again, and finally the whole 
concludes with an exhibition of fireworks, which, for bril- 
liancy and finish, far exceeds any public pyrotechnic dis- 
play I ever saw given by our public authorities, even on 
occasions when they made their largest appropriations for 
such objects. 

The gayest feature of the whole performance, however, is 



116 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the dancing, and it is that alone which has made me think a 
recurrence to this description of entertainment necessary, 
before disposing of London, perhaps altogether. It is diffi- 
cult to conceive a more cheerful and hilarious scene than 
these gardens present during the intervals of the ball. In 
the centre of the place is erected a temple, or pagoda, bril- 
liantly decorated with hundreds of different colored lights, 
the platform of which is filled with a fine band of music, and 
around this dazzling structure, on a broad circular course, 
wheel and whirl hundreds of couples, abandoned to the infat- 
uation of the waltz. 

During the intervals of the music, the parties lounge 
about the arena, the fledgling dandies with their canes stuck 
jauntily in their coat pockets, and turned behind their elbows 
like arms reversed ; the more advanced aspirants to fashion 
with eye-glasses pinched into the corner of their eyes, and 
white kids a little faded, but well restored with bread crumbs 
or patent wash. Here comes a simpering seamstress; there 
an upper female servant out of place ; and there again adven- 
turous ladies, as frisky as fairies at the theatre, who are 
something between both, lounging along, or skipping about 
among the eye-glasses and the canes. These, with a due 
quantity of nondescript gentlemen in high-lows, enormous 
neckcloths, large shirt frills, or long and painfully attenuated 
straps, make up a tout ensemble very strange to look upon. 
They all move about, either singly, or in couples, as the 
case may be ; but the instant the first note of a polka or 
redowa is struck by the band, the motion ceases. The 
crowd pause. The gentlemen with the short canes, the small 
eye-glasses, the mussed kids, and the linen foliage, look 
intently at a corresponding number of young ladies, who 
look with equal interest at them. In another moment these 
mesmerists unite and whirl away, as if they had felt a spell 



THE CREMORNE GARDENS. 



117 



which it was impossible to resist. At the end of the dance 
they separate mechanically, and become lost to each other 
in the ground-swell that follows, with as much indifference as 
if they had never met. 

Nothing wrong is thought of this description of amuse- 
ment. It is countenanced and shared by many people, who, 
though simple, are irreproachable in morals, and the general 
entertainment is patronized by numerous others who are 
very eligibly situated in society. The system is adopted 
from the French. It is conducted with perfect decorum in 
manner, and were it not for the freedom of introduction, 
there is nothing in it that would strike the most fastidious 
stranger as an impropriety. After all, it is only dispensing 
with the formality of floor managers, to give out partners 
by the card ; but whether the abandonment of that feature 
tends to a good or evil end, I leave to doctors graver than 
myself to say. These gardens close at midnight, and the 
company at once drain off toward the steamboats and omni- 
buses, while a very large portion content themselves with 
trusting to their feet. 

On the occasion of my visit, I was with two friends, and 
as none of us had danced, we felt inclined to enjoy the rays 
of a fine moon, which, on this occasion, actually had the bril- 
liancy of a sheet of rice paper, as I have seen it on one or 
two occasions at the Chatham Theatre, when lit up by an oil 
lamp. We slackened our pace and lit our segars, the more 
fully to enjoy the unusual luxury, and, in the cheerfulness 
with which this refreshing recognition of the heavens inspired 
us, took no measure of the hour- and a half that run away 
from under our feet before we were in the neighborhood of 
our hotel. 

As we turned down by the Haymarket, the moon left us, 
and just at this moment a female figure emerged from one 



118 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of the dark arches of the Royal Opera House, and in a most 
piteous voice asked " charity, for the love of God." I was 
struck with the concentrated and touching misery of the 
tone, and instinctively put my hand towards my pocket. 
One of my companions, however, who professed to know 
much of London, turned the woman off with a rough denial ; 
whereupon she slunk backwards, but added, as she quietly 
retreated, and in the same quivering accent as before, "Indeed, 
gentlemen, indeed I am not the kind of character you take 
me for !" My sharp companion w r as about vindicating the 
position he had taken by another brusque reply, when L 
checked him by catching hold of his arm, and, turning after 
the woman, I slipped a half crown in her hand. She looked 
at her hand for an instant, as if she could hardly realize her 
fortune, then with a burst of feeling that I have never seen 
equalled in fervor, exclaimed, " God bless your Christian 
heart !" and darted out of sight. Even my obdurate friend 
was overcome, and commenced feeling in his pockets, while 
I, inspired with new confidence in my judgment by this exhi- 
bition, took a quick step or two in the direction of the 
woman's flight, as if it were my duty to do more. But the 
apparition had vanished, and I peered up the dark street in 
vain. I fancied, for an instant, that I could hear a low 
chuckle near me, as if one of the black old arches was enjoy- 
ing a little dry merriment by itself, but it faded away as an 
illusion, and, for the time, I thought no more of it. On the 
following night I was passing by the same spot at a some- 
what earlier hour, when I found my elbow touched, while a 
low voice whispered by my ear : " I say, sir, don't you want 
to buy a pretty picture book." I turned quickly round, and 
to my astonishment recognized the plaintive beggar of the 
night before. The book she offered was of the vilest kind, 
and she herself was one of those pestilent bats that haunt in 



LONDON IMPOSTORS. 119 

the dark nooks of public thoroughfares, to tempt the late 
wayfarer on his passage home. I felt ashamed that this 
base creature should have used up the sympathy and trust 
which might have been reserved within me for some worthier 
object, and in the angry resolution that I made, not to be so 
deceived again, I experienced the full force of a maxim I 
have used before, "that ever^ impostor should be treated 
as a common enemy, for he not only sets a bad example to 
the world, but robs the worthy of that fund of sympathy, 
which is often the only resource and dependence of real 
misfortune." 



London, June, 1851. 
London — Its Dens of Crime and Misery. 

Having now visited the better parts of London, and given 
due attention to its more deserving features, I reserved for 
the last night of my stay a visit to those dens and hiding- 
holes of misery and crime, which make this city the re- 
proach of civilization, and in an unenviable sense, entitles it 
to be called one of the wonders of the world. To enable 
myself to do this to advantage and with safety, I made a 
requisition upon the services of the policeman who had been 
detailed to attend upon my friends and myself by the Su- 
perintendent ; and he, to afford us the largest facilities for 
our purpose, sent information to the various stations in the 
neighborhoods we wished to visit, in order that we might be 
provided with a local guard, in waiting at each place, who 
were known to the desperadoes of each district. 

Thus prepared, we chartered two coaches, and seven of 
us set out at ten o'clock upon our novel expedition. Having 
made a good outside observation of the neighborhood of 
Seven Dials, we plunged into the recesses of a dark and 
filthy passage called Church Lane, groping our way in the 
rear of two of the detectives of the district, (one of whom 
bore a lantern for our guidance,) and instructed by our spe- 



THE DENS OF LONDON. 121 

cial officer, who kept close beside us, to be careful how we 
stepped here and there. Truly, all these attentions were 
necessary. The vile street was filled with noisome pools, 
which gathered from the stifled dwellings faster than they 
could be swept away ; while from the cave-like doors on 
either side, there issued steams of odor which poisoned the 
whole atmosphere. Our entrance into this region seemed 
*to be an event among its inmates. Our lantern had not ad- 
vanced many yards within it, before the narrrow street 
swarmed with squalid-looking wretches, and the doorways 
stood wedged with sullen figures, some of whom were 
smoking short stumps of pipes, with their arms folded, as 
if they were standing for gallows illustrations of the New- 
gate Calendar ; while others peeped over their heads, and 
secure in their retreat, delivered themselves of some ribald 
witticism on the object of our visit. Those who were in the 
street flocked around us and. ran alongside, as if we were a 
troop of Bedouins; but while they pretended to be very 
officious in our service, by shouting, " Clear the road for the 
gentlemen there !" we discovered that they had quite another 
object. 

At almost every step, some impersonation of the " Artful 
Dodger" would make a skilful strike at a coat pocket, and 
failing, would be succeeded by some female operator, per- 
haps full grown, perhaps no older than himself. We had 
been cautioned against these attempts by our conductor, 
before we set out, and had consequently left our watches 
and our pocket-books at home, making him our treasurer 
for way expense, in the sum of three or four pounds for 
distribution among the beasts we were to see. Neverthe- 
less, though barren of temptation, our pockets were conti- 
nually angled at, and in every dark passage through which 
we passed, we could feel some new and enterprising nibbler 



122 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

at his work. In issuing from a doorway, where he had been 
closely pressed, I felt a gentle approach from a hand behind, 
but being indifferent, from the insignificance of my posses- 
sions in that quarter, I quietly abided the result. The hand 
stole along as soft as the touch of love, and when properly 
poised within the neck of the pocket, made a dexterous dive 
into its recesses. A sudden movement of the crowd and no 
motion of my own, defeated the excellent intention, and in< 
commiseration for the disappointment of one so worthy in 
his profession as the operator, I turned and handed him the 
handkerchief he had been after, with a polite bow and a re- 
mark that I feared it was hardly worthy of his acceptance. 
The unblushing ruffian received it gaily, and after taking off 
a cap which laid on his bullet-shaped head like a muffin, in 
answer to my politeness, passed the cambric two or three 
times under his nose, and hoped he might live to see the 
day when I would be the Lord Chancellor of England. At 
the same moment an ex-Alderman of New York, who was 
present, felt a signal to gather up his skirts, while as I issued 
from the doorway into the street, I met another of our 
party, gently satirizing a hatchet-faced fellow, who had an 
expression like a badger, with not having " sounded" him 
sufficiently low down. " Thank you, sir," said the genius, 
" I'll try and do better next time ;" and he vanished among 
the crowd. 

The first of the dens which we entered in this region, was 
a cellar, or more properly a cave, many steep steps under 
ground, lit by a single rushlight, with walls as black as if it 
had long done service as a coalpit. A narrow table tra- 
versed the extreme length of the apartment, around which 
sat a dozen evil looking men, most of whom were smoking 
pipes, while a tall gaunt fellow, more sinister in appearance 
than the rest, stood with his ragged skirts spread independ- 



THE DENS OF LONDON. 123 

ently before a fire-place, whistling a tune, as he rocked him- 
self carelessly to and fro in the style of Robert Macaire. 
There was a general stir as we entered, and most of the 
men at the table touched their caps in honor of the visitation. 
Robert Macaire, however, merely stopped his note, and 
kept settling himself dashingly in his clothes at intervals, 
by way of evincing his complete indifference to our presence. 
Our guide saluted the company respectfully, inquired how 
many boarded in that establishment, and after he had re- 
ceived the answer of " fourteen," asked if one of them would 
not sing a song. At this three or four of them glanced at a man 
at the centre of the board, who till this moment had evinced 
no disposition to look up. Feeling himself urged, however, 
to respond to the invitation, he glanced towards the ruffian 
at the fire-place, and receiving a slight nod of permission 
from that quarter, he took off his hat to begin. I had not 
noticed him till that moment, and now that I scrutinized 
him clearly, I was surprised at his appearance. His hair, 
which had once been flaxen, was matted and begrimmed, 
but though in this sorry plight, it laid in large and not un- 
graceful waves, and exhibited here and there a latent golden 
tinge. Its fault was its abundance, but when he lifted it 
with his dirty hand, he displayed a fine white forehead, even 
features, and a pair of large blue eyes, that would have made 
the fortune of many a gallant at the court of Louis XIV. 
Dirty as he was, he seemed extremely out of place in this 
foul and noisome den, and as if to enlarge the proofs of his 
unfitness, he selected the plaintive song of 
" The light of other days." 
Before he had finished the first stanza, it was plain why 
common consent had indicated him as the minstrel of the 
party. He not only had a full and melodious voice, but he 
sang with exceeding good taste, and there was a thrill of 



124 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

sad feeling in his tone, that claimed sympathy from every 
one who heard him. He puzzled me very much, and I 
longed for an opportunity to question him as to his life, but 
fenced off by the forbidding men around, I was content to 
read in his features and his tone the gloomy story of a life 
of broken hopes, perhaps of broken love, and a condition of 
irretrievable depression. Even. in that place he seemed to 
be a hopeless loafer, whose want of spirit was tolerated 
because of his gifts, and whose yielding good nature helped 
to make him the pet of the crowd. When he had finished, 
most of the party glanced towards us to witness our admira- 
tion, and even Robert Macaire, who had been beating time 
with his foot, condescended a nod of approbation. After a 
slight pause, our guide put his hand in his pocket and asked 
who was the captain of the room. " That's our captain," 
said a fellow with a head like a walrus, pointing with the 
stump of his pipe to the figure at the fire-place. Our aux- 
iliary policeman at this turned the stream of his lantern 
full upon the independent gentleman in the torn coat tails. 
A slight recognition might then have been observed to pass 
between the ruffian and the officer, but it was only the re- 
cognition of a reciprocal glance, after which the latter 
dropped a few shillings in the captain's hands, and told him 
to spend it for the entertainment of the company, conclud- 
ing his remark with — " and no chisseling ; do you mind." 
" Oh, our captain is an honest man," said a voice from the 
extreme end of the table, whereupon we vanished into the 
open air. 

Our policemen led the way across the street, and brushed 
the crowd away from a narrow passage, the entrance to which 
seemed like the entrance to a pig-stye, and was but wide 
enough for us to advance in single file. The board flooring, 
sluiced and undermined by continual streams of filth, plashed 



THE DENS OF LONDON. 125 

under our feet, and our noses were assailed with vapors that 
seemed almost tangible to the touch. However, we groped 
on, sustained in hardihood by a common example, though 
the loss of my handkerchief almost made me a deserter. 
Far up in this foul alley we came to a side-door, which let 
us into an apartment some sixteen feet square, and about 
ten feet high. All was dark when we entered, but our lan- 
tern lit up a sight such as I had never seen before, and such 
a one as I pray God I may never see again. In that con- 
tracted lair laid thirty human beings, men, women, and 
children; yes, thirty white Christians, of a Christian land, 
packed head and feet in layers, like the black cargo of a 
slave-ship under chase, and most of them, adults as well as 
infants, as naked as they were born. Some were families, 
some were man and wife, some were single lodgers at a penny 
a head. Some wore a few scanty patches, others were partly 
covered by a sheet, but many were threadless and indiffer- 
ent to exposure. In the centre of the room stood a large 
tub or reservoir, which the comity of the apartment permit- 
ted to be used by two or three at once ; and in the muck 
and gloom, and stench and vermin of the place, these larvas 
of a stifled and rotten civilization, crawled and groveled 
and profaned the rites of nature ; and what seems most 
strange of all, bred souls for immortality. I deal with a 
repulsive subject, but surgery cannot be fastidious, and I 
dwell upon the features of this den, because it exists almost 
within a stone's throw from the palaces of nobles, and under 
the noses, it may be said, of the snuffling hypocrites of 
Exeter Hall, whose mock philanthropy commissions emis- 
saries to excite our slaves to insurrection, and who plunder 
well meaning poverty to provide blankets and bibles for the 
happier heathen. 

Opposite this model lodging-house, over the way as it 



126 EUROPE IK A HURRY. 

were, but across a passage only two feet wide, is a restau- 
rant, where chops are cooked, lobsters and ale served out, 
and dirty-faced gentlemen are furnished with pipes and 
tobacco at the very lowest rates. Here the creatures who 
crawl and move in the other room, get fed, and replenish 
the foul currents of their being with fouler food. The occu- 
pations of those who inhabit such dens as these are various ; 
some are street cadgers, who rake the thoroughfares for rags 
and paper ; some are those peculiar scavengers, who gather 
offal, and who become so enterprising in their calling, as to 
chase the coach-horses in the street in anticipation of a wind- 
fall — a frequent sight in London ; some are beggars ; some 
thieves, and some are mere loafers, who having raised a cap- 
ital of children, send them forth to pilfer or to beg,- in order 
that they, their parents, may recline in an opulence of gin 
and tobacco during the evening of their days. 

I need not suggest what should be done to eradicate this 
state of things. It is a reproach and a scandal which bears 
its own lesson on its face. 

Our party went into two other dens of this description, in 
one of which there were twenty-four, and in the other six- 
teen persons, but as they did not differ much from the one I 
have described, I pass them by. In each some women were 
found ready to sit up, and give us the statistics of the apart- 
ment, and to receive in behalf of the company our custom- 
ary largess to provide them all with a treat of coffee in the 
morning. In the last place, the spokeswoman in telling over 
the numbers, pointed out a young Irish lad of eighteen, and 
his sister tw T o years younger, who, she said, had come in 
from the country out of work that day, with but fourpence 
between them ; but she added that they were going away 
in the morning. The poor young creatures had been driven 
to this horrid lodging by the condition of their purse, but 



THE DENS OF LONDON. 127 

terrified and shocked at what they had seen, they laid clasped 
fast in each other's arms, as if they feared to lose each 
other for a moment. The girl did not open her eyes, but 
her guardian looked at us askant, without turning his head 
or changing his position. Their bright red cheeks laid toge- 
ther like two roses among a patch of brown and wilted 
weeds, and told by their freshness the story of their inno- 
cence, much plainer than the language of the hag. " Here 
is a penny for you, my boy," said I, leaning over, and 
slipping a half crown in his hand, "to help you in your 
journey." "And here is one, too, for 'your sister," said a 
gentleman beside me, who saw my movement, and appre- 
ciated my object in underrating the coin. The lad gripped 
the money in his fist, but too occupied with his sacred care 
even to thank us, he threw his arms quickly about his sis- 
ter's neck again, and in that position the pair remained 
when we retired. 

Our peregrinations in this neighborhood had now occa- 
sioned such a crowd about the doors from which we issued, 
who swarmed after us wherever we moved, that our police- 
men thought it prudent we should leave, so we betook our- 
selves to our coaches and whirled off in fresh air (if any 
portion of the London atmosphere can be so called), towards 
the direction of Whitechapel at the other end of the town. 

There we visited the gin palaces and the cider cellars, and 
though it was past midnight when we arrived in the quar- 
ter, we found them crowded with company, and the adjacent 
streets swarming as full of life as the neighborhood of a 
bee-hive. As we went along we could hear the word " ex- 
hibition " pass from mouth to mouth by way of accounting 
for the presence of such a party as we were in London, but 
on all sides we were received with the utmost good humor. 
In one place I received an invitation to dance from a young 



128 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

lady in a pink bodice and blue skirt, who might have been 
handsome if it had not been for a squint ; and might have 
been engaging if her expression had not been damaged a little 
by a cut in her upper lip, and a dark puff under her left eye. 
She compromised for my refusal, however, in a pot of half- 
and-half, and found amends for the disappointment, by 
obtaining a sailor for a partner, whose head was covered all 
over with red ringlets, and whose weather-beaten countenance 
looked like the map of the world. It was curious to observe 
the sublime indifference with which the sailors who were 
present in these places treated our presence. They did not 
notice us at all, or seem in any way to recognize the fact that 
we were there, but went on dancing and drinking, and talking 
to their doxies, as if they w T ere in their own peculiar para- 
dise, where every object figured at a disadvantageous com- 
parison with themselves. 

The entire of this region was filled with oyster-stands, and 
tables for the sale of lobsters, crabs, shrimp, and blood- 
puddings, and at short intervals we would find the highway 
made vocal by ballad-singers, who with one hand beside 
their faces to enable them to roar with facility, and the other 
full of penny ballads, would dole forth the "Loss of the 
Albion," " My charming Nancy," and other refreshing dit- 
ties of that sort. 

In this region was also a class of up-stairs rooms, fre- 
quented by men and women of the vilest character, which 
furnished music in a sort of free and easy style. When we 
entered one of them, a female, and sometimes two, would 
set up a sentimental song, and then be succeeded by a man 
kept for the purpose of comic singing. One of these fel- 
lows was a rare genius, and though a little shaky from hard 
service and a long career of gin, he sang more humorously 
than I ever heard any one sing before. He continually 



THE DENS OF LONDON. 129 

reminded me of my notions of the face of Liston. His 
grimaces were abundant beyond description ; his face seemed 
to unfold and take new shapes as naturally as a Chinese 
light, and as for his mouth, it was made up of tacks and 
flounces that produced continual revelations, and seemed to 
be capable of as voluminous a history as the acts of the 
Apostles. While I was standing lost in admiration of this 
human hyderangea, I felt another light twitch at my coat 
skirts, something like the stroke of a trout, and turning 
sharply, discovered directly behind me a young woman in 
an open straw bonnet, just folding her hands demurely across 
her bosom, and composing her features after her failure. I 
raised my hat, and regretted that she had found nothing in 
that quarter worthy of her attention, upon which I could see 
a titter run the round of her acquaintances at her discom- 
fiture. The young woman denied the soft impeachment, 
whereupon I borrowed a shilling from our treasurer to heal 
her lacerated feelings. A few coppers thrown upon the floor 
compensated the gentleman with the flexible face, and we 
retired to our coaches, and changed our region to that of 
the " Thieves' Kitchen." 

The readers of the National Police Gazette will recollect 
the publication of a descent by the London police upon that 
den a few months ago, in consequence of a development 
having been made, that it was a sort of college, or academy, 
where children were taught the art of theft, and prepared 
for the degrees of house-breaking and of murder. Atten- 
tion had been specially attracted to it, through the arrest of 
several juvenile thieves of both sexes, who described how 
they had been decoyed from their parents into this den by 
an old Jew, or modern Fagin, and practiced in the ways of 
pilfering, for his profit. In return for their work, he cor- 
rupted their appetites for drink, and furnished them with 

6* 



130 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

means of sexual license together, that made them unfit for 
any other sort of life. When the police made a descent 
upon this place, they found all the gymnasia of roguery in 
operation for juvenile tuition, and at the very moment of 
their entrance, these young pupils for the gallows were prac- 
ticing at the skirts of coats, hung loosely upon clothes lines, 
in order to earn rewards from their preceptors, for taking a 
purse or handkerchief from the pockets without shaking the 
line, or disturbing little bells that were attached to the ends 
of the garments. There were a great number of experienced 
old thieves residing in this den at the time of the descent, 
as well as children, and indignant at the profanation of this 
sanctuary of their arts, they gave battle to the invaders, and 
after a severe contest, succeeded in rescuing some of the 
children, and in beating the officers off. A reinforcement of 
authority was however soon obtained, and the den ransacked 
of its professors and its pupils. At the time of our visit 
it was comparatively quiet, and we were received by only 
five or six gentlemen of the "jimmy," who preserved a very 
quiet demeanor. Though shorn of their numbers, and 
reduced in strength, they showed, however, that they were 
of the house of Warwick, for they did not condescend to 
any civility during our stay, and regarded us all the time 
with a sort of sullen defiance. There was but one relief from 
this -behavior, and that was in the shape of a little jocose 
sarcasm between a fellow with a black thatch over his eye, 
and a little ferret-eyed chap, with a humpy body, and a pair 
of thin legs, which he seemed to have picked up in a hurry, 
and clapped on for the purpose of flight, when his own were 
out of the way. "I say, Tommy," said the fellow with the 
thatch, pulling out his pipe and sending out a long whiff of 
smoke ; " I say, Tommy, the Queen gives a ball to-night, I 
believe !" " Yes," replied the owner of the legs, nursing 



THE DENS OF LONDON. 131 

one of them with an air of aristocratic repose ; " yes, 1 saw 
her Majesty this morning, and she begged me to be present ; 
but she let me off when I told her I had a small bit of a job 
at Blackfriar's Bridge." Just at this point our party was 
ready to retire, and satisfied with the peregrinations of the 
night, we resumed our coaches, drove to our several hotels, 
and got to bed an hour after daybreak in the morning. 
When I awoke it was near noon, and I occupied the remain- 
der of the day in writing letters, packing my trunk, and 
making preparations for my departure in the evening line 
for Paris. An event, inasmuch as it has been so long delayed, 
I take the liberty to state at the close of this letter, I faith- 
fully carried out. 



Paris, June, 1851. 

London Weather — Voyage to Calais. 

Having made some half a dozen engagements of travel 
with parties, which the continual jostle of events destroyed, 
I concluded, as the only means of ever getting away from 
London, to set out alone, so I sternly resisted several press- 
ing invitations to wait " only till to-morrow morning," and 
took the evening train for Paris, by the old way of Calais 
and Dover. I was determined to repair my overstay, if 
possible, by prompt movement in the future ; besides, I was 
heartily tired of the cold and rain of the climate of Old 
England, and acknowledged as one of my main objects in 
pushing south, the simple desire to get dry and warm. The 
chance for those blessings of condition, however, seemed as 
hopeless at the hour of my departure, as at that of my 
entrance into the country. It rained when I anchored in the 
port of Liverpool ; it was wet and wintry, with but little 
pause, during my entire stay of three weeks in England, 
and I was followed to the depot, at the time of my farewell, 
with all the compliments of the season, in a soaking shower. 
The people of London told me the \yeather was unusual, but 
people of all places say as much, whenever they feel uncom- 
fortable, and I conclude against the apology, by observing 



LONDON WEATHER. 133 

that half the population live in water-proof boots, and take 
a drenching shower with as much indifference, as if nature 
had intended them to be amphibious. They may well boast 
of their complexions, for there is no sun to tan them ; and 
their green sward must always be of the greenest, for it is 
watered freshly every day. Somebody has likened the 
appearance of the sun of London to a boiled turnip, and 
whoever he is, I wish to corroborate his testimony. Indeed 
the turnip surfers most in the comparison, and might be 
relieved a little now and then, by the figure of a dead fish's 
eye, or a faded horn lantern. I have beheld a much more 
respectable luminary since, at the opera in Paris, and have 
seen it hold its rays too, for a much longer stretch of time, 
than the enfeebled planet that floats in the fogs to the north 
of the channel. 

It is a great pleasure for a man to leave a hotel where he 
has been stopping for three or four weeks, and particularly 
if that hotel be in London. He finds such an affectionate 
regard has grown up for him, during his stay, that every 
face in the establishment is gathered at the door to see him 
off; and turn w r hich way he will, a battery of eyes are rivet- 
ed on his face, as if each wanted to make up by one long 
concentrated gaze of friendship, for the misery of never see- 
ing him again. What is singular, it matters not at what 
hour you may start — whether it be midnight or morning, 
evening or noon, these faces seem to have had an intuitive 
perception of your intentions, and appear in the very nick 
of time to distress you with their vigilant concern. The 
result of this is, that you cannot help putting your hand in 
your pocket ; and though, according to the new system of 
European hotels, you have been charged pretty liberally in 
your bill for " service," you involuntarily distribute a piece 
of coin to each of these susceptible servitors. Upon this, the 



134 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

look of pathetic and painful earnestness falls into the hand, 
and after dwelling for an instant upon the coin, ends in a 
vibration of satisfied bows, that are exceedingly refreshing 
to a man, who is seeking for evidences in favor of the natural 
goodness of mankind. 

After having paid fifteen dollars and twenty cents for my 
ticket to Paris, I took a corner seat in a very elegant and 
spacious car for Dover. As I had arrived late, there were 
already five people in it, and as I took my seat, I observed 
that they were prepared for sleep, having their heads drawn 
down, and their shoulders thrown up, like so many land 
turtles in a state of defense. I also observed that on my 
entrance, each head eyed me for a moment, from its en- 
trenchments, with looks that seemed jealous of my partici- 
pation of their comforts, so I took my seat, drew down my 
own head and threw up my shoulders in a spirit of defiance. 
But I soon became naturalized in the locality, and had the 
gratification to find these glances shifted successively from 
me to two new comers, while the common feeling changed 
into toleration of myself. 

I arrived at Dover at half past ten or eleven o'clock at 
night, and tumbled out to select my several articles of bag- 
gage from the huge piles, that are slid down on planks from 
the tops of the baggage cars for recognition. As there are 
four or five cars, whose roofs are piled up in this way, it 
affords a pretty lively exercise to keep your vigilance di- 
rected among all, in order to detect the descent of your lug- 
gage among the confusion of black and russet leather that 
tumbles from them. By means of an address, however, that 
was worthy of a higher object, I caught sight of mine just as 
it was glancing into a chaos of luggage of a!l sorts, and ex- 
tricated it with the aid of a porter, whom I had touched 
with a sixpence to stand my friend in this trying exigency. 



VOYAGE TO CALAIS. 135 

Together, he wrenching and I directing, we were successful 
in our object, and I had my articles deposited on a large 
cart, which was labeled for the Calais boat. Not feeling 
quite assured however, I ventured to make an inquiry of a 
gentleman with a very thin face, and an American aspect, 
who was superintending the bestowal of his own baggage in 
the same quarter, if I was right. The answer was in the 
affirmative, and I had the further satisfaction to learn that 
he was going the same way. I secretly rejoiced at this cir- 
cumstance, as I resolved to quietly observe the operations 
of my American friend, and be directed by his motions. 

We walked down the quay together, towards two boats, 
which were roaring at high steam ; but by way of not evin- 
cing any anxiety as to which of the two I was to take, I con- 
versed with my new companion, on subjects quite foreign to 
my feelings, determined, if possible, to remain independent 
of further favor and wait upon his course. We went on 
board the first boat together, and together descended to the 
cabin. My new friend took a seat among a lot of people, 
who were spreading out cloaks and other garments, for tem- 
porary beds, while I, made thirsty by my ride, threw down 
my overcoat, and went to the steward's department for a 
glass of ale. There was some time consumed in getting it, 
and after half-finishing the draught, it struck me that as 
baggage is always a matter of some concern to a traveler, 
it would not be amiss for me to go on deck, and just take 
one little look after mine. I glanced at the cabin door as I 
passed by it, but my thin faced friend had disappeared, and 
I was a little surprised when I got above to find also that he 
was not on the deck. A sudden alarm struck my mind, I 
went forward, but could see no traces of my baggage; 
every body about me seemed to be French or German, and 
to heighten my perplexity, the boat was moving off. I 



136 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

made another quick range with my eye among the groups 
about me, and catching sight of a gentleman, with an Eng- 
lish whisker, I ventured to inquire of him if I was on the 
Calais boat. " No, sir," said he, very coolly, " this is the 
boat for Ostend." Here was a pretty pickle ! The Calais 
boat was but a hundred yards off; she had my baggage 
on board of her, and had not yet started from the dock. 
I shouted to the captain of my boat, who stood upon the 
wheel giving orders, briefly told him my condition and re- 
quested him to back water for an instant, and put me ashore. 
We were not three feet off, but the animal would not listen 
to my prayer, and contenting himself with reminding me 
that it was my own fault, continued his course. The crisis 
was a desperate one. I had no time for parleying ; so I 
sprang to the bulwarks of the boat, with the intention of 
jumping overboard, while the time was short. As I stood 
for a moment perched in that position, least my eyes around 
once more, and fortunately discovered on the surface of the 
bay, two seamen in a ship's yawl boat, pulling in shore, and 
distant from me only about two hundred yards. I looked 
upon this as a God-send, and hailed them with the promise 
of a guinea, if they would strike the steamer's side. They 
pulled stoutly, and as they struck, I dropped, and found 
myself free from a captivity and extradition, that was a just 
subject of alarm. 

My rescuers did their best to get me on board the boat 
that bore my baggage, without avail, but I let her go with 
a light heart, and in the glee I felt at my escape, I captured 
the tars in turn, and made them march off with me to the 
Dover Castle Inn, to celebrate their success in a glass of 
cogniac. I had now made up my mind to remain at this 
place for the night, and continue my journey in the morning 
train from London, but just as I had settled myself to this 



VOYAGE TO CALAIS. 137 

conclusion, a person present told me that I could continue on 
to Calais, at 12 o'clock, in the fast French screw steamer, 
that was expected in every moment, and which would re- 
turn to Calais as soon as she had discharged the mails. The 
corpulent lady of the establishment, who had just been mea- 
suring me in her mind's eye for a breakfast and a lodging, 
looked very black at the volunteer philanthropist who gave 
me this information, but as it was a matter at which I could 
rejoice, I made her compensation in asking the audience up 
to drink, and in filling my pocket with segars. - While this 
ceremony was in progress, the noise of the French propeller 
was heard, and in a few minutes I was on board, heading 
for the coast of France. Being thus comfortably situated, I 
rather rejoiced at the events of the night, and as I viewed 
the white cliffs of Dover by the light of a moon of some- 
what improved complexion, and marked the speed with 
which I receded from them, I was enabled to hope that I 
might yet overtake the progress of the clumsy English packet 
sufficiently to catch the train for Paris. 

I was the only passenger on board, and not knowing what 
to make of my appearance, every officer, from the captain 
down, addressed me with a variety of interrogations — all in 
French. I had thought till this time, that I knew something 
of that language, but I found that, though I had it in my 
mind, none of it was resident in my ear, or on my tongue. 
Finally, there came to me a customer in a braided jacket, 
whom I took to be the steward, and who commenced panto- 
miming, like Old Ravel in the Skaters of Wilna. Refusing 
all efforts of language with this person, I thrust my hand 
into my pocket, and held it out to him, full of mixed gold and 
silver ; upon which intelligible motion, he took a sovereign, 
and went away. Presently he returned, and put a lot. of 
change in my hand, and then took off a five franc piece. In 



138 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

a few minutes he came back again, addressed me with a 
smile that was perfectly fascinating, and handing me some 
more change, went off with a new half crown. Glad to get 
rid of him at last, I paced the deck for some time, until the 
short, twitching sea nearly threw me from my feet, and I 
retreated to the cabin for a nap. I had, however, no sooner 
stretched myself very comfortably on a sofa ; than Old Ravel 
appeared again, tapping me on the shoulder, and intimating 
to me, by an upward motion of his ringer, that he considered 
me only a deck passenger. Considerably annoyed at this 
interruption, I offered a handful of change to him again, as a 
full answer, and had the satisfaction to see him finally vanish, 
after fingering my money for the fourth time, though down 
to this moment I have not the most remote idea of what 
was the amount of his accumulated tariffs. 

After he had gone, I fell asleep, and did not wake until I 
felt the boat bump against the quay at Calais, and then was 
surprised to find myself surrounded with basins, which Scara- 
mouch in the braided jacket had provided against the dangers 
of my sea-sickness. The boat, contrary to her customary 
speed, had been somewhat beyond two hours in crossing, so 
it was nearly three o'clock when I arrived ; nevertheless, the 
train in which 1 should have gone had only left five minutes 
before. I was helped on shore by a charitable stranger in a 
bag cap and bright scarlet neckcloth, who very politely drag- 
ged me up on the dock with his hand, and offered to devote 
himself to my comfort while I remained in Calais. Recog- 
nizing him by this as a Commissionaire, or more properly a 
valet de place, I accepted his proposal at once, and with him 
jogging at my elbow, I entered the passport office, heard the 
word " American" uttered by the principal officer of the 
Bureau, as 1 entered the door, and passed into the baggage- 
room of the depot, with only a glance at my credentials. I 



VOYAGE TO CALAIS. 139 

found my baggage, waiting for its owner, to be examined. 
Not caring to endure the annoyance of standing by, and see- 
ing my well-packed trunks turned upside down, I gave my 
keys to the valet, placed myself under the charge of a run- 
ner for an excellent inn called the Hotel de Paris, and set 
out for my quarters, with directions that my trunks should 
follow me as soon as they had undergone the customary 
search. Contrary to my expectation, after the treatment 
they received at Liverpool, they came to me almost undis- 
turbed ; and I thus received, in a very gratifying manner, 
my first evidence of the superior amenity to strangers which 
the French exhibit, when compared with their neighbors 
over the way. It was daybreak when I retired, and though 
it helped to make her look picturesque, there was really no 
need of the candle which the smiling fernme de cha?nbre, who 
bade me good night, held in her hand to light me to my 
chamber. She was very neat and very pretty, and quite 
worthy of a description, but as this is a good point to stop 
at, and as I am fatigued, I also will bid my readers good 
night, and reserve the incidents of my trip to Paris, and first 
day therein, for another letter. Good night. 



: 



Paris, June, 1851. 

Paris — Dinners and Dress — Grisettes and the Streets. 

I was aroused at an early hour in the morning after my 
arrival in Calais, by a knocking which had entered my 
dreams several minutes before it woke me, in the shape of 
an illusive cannonade. The last blow, however, being accom- 
panied by a peculiarly shrill " Monsieur," made me sensible 
that I was not resisting besiegers on the town walls, but 
merely contending against the seductions of a fatigue which 
I had wisely provided against, by leaving directions with my 
valet de place for an early summons. I by this means found 
time, between the conclusion of a good breakfast and the 
starting of the train for Paris, to take a look at the town and 
fortifications of Calais, so famous for its capitulation to 
Edward I. of England. Having improved an hour in this 
way, I was notified by my commissionaire to make my way 
to the cars. That genius then stowed my baggage, handed 
me the proper checks, conducted me to an eligible seat in 
the train, informed me that the cars changed at Amiens, and 
wished me a bon voyage with a polite bow, which notified me 
that our relations were at an end. For all this I duly paid 
him the customary fee of a dollar, and confess as much plea- 
sure in offering as he did in receiving it. He had saved me 



PARIS. 



141 



more than a dollar's worth of trouble, to say nothing of the 
useful information he had imparted as to the exigencies of 
the road ; and I would advise all travelers similarly situated, 
at this or any other place in Europe, to engage one in like 
manner, and profit by his help. 

These catch servants are known as commissionaires, or 
valets de place, and are to be found at all the cities or towns 
on the great routes of travel. They take your cares in 
charge at once on your arrival, see to your baggage, attend 
to your passport, instruct you in the main features of the 
place, wake you in the morning, attend upon you in your 
walks, and suffer no cne to rob you but themselves. This 
latter is an advantage at any rate, for a man can keep a 
tolerable look-out for one speculator when he would be cir- 
cumvented by a dozen. But to do justice to this class of 
persons, I must confess I merely indulge in a figure of speech 
when I hint at their extortion, for they absorb all the evils 
of your ignorance, and a dollar a day is no robbery in any 
country, for a man's whole time. 

It was a bright and beautiful Sunday morning when the 
railway train set out for Paris, and I leaned back in the 
voluptuously cushioned car with a grateful satisfaction in 
all things near me and around me, that contained in it more 
actual religion and pure adoration of the day, than if I had 
gone to sleep under a bad sermon, or read the church ser- 
vice over twenty times in a velvet prayer-book. After I had 
rode a short distance in this commendable state of mind, I 
turned my attention, in accordance with the first duty of a 
good traveler, to the companions of my carriage. In all we 
were but five. The person who sat opposite to me was 
rather a distingue looking character. He had a black 
mustache, a highly polished forehead, a pug nose, which he 
blew imposingly at frequent intervals, and he carried a 



142 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

huge gold-headed cane. The one who sat beside me, sepa- 
rated only by the division of a grand arm-chair, was an ele- 
gant lady, fringed all over with lace, who seemed the very 
picture of amenity on a visit to this world. Facing her was 
a gentleman quite as tastefully attired, whom I soon per- 
ceived to be her husband, and between their knees played a 
child, whose graceful hat and ringlets and ribbands seemed 
to have just come out of the foreground of the picture of 
Queen Catharine before Henry VIII. I subsequently learned 
that this family was of the ci-devant French nobility, and 
that the old gentleman with the ivory forehead was an ex- 
hausted deputy of the new democracy, who had failed in 
his district on the question of the contraction of the fran- 
chise. 

We soon got into a conversation all round, they coming 
towards me in bad English, and I working into their com- 
prehensions with worse French. Nevertheless, we made 
ourselves tolerably well understood to each other, and en- 
joyed the little lunches which we got at the various stations 
at the road-side, in quite a family manner. Until the latter 
part of the day, our car was not invaded by any new comers, 
and then it only took a customer now and then for the short 
stations. On two of these occasions we received third-class 
passengers, in consequence of no room being left in the 
second and third-class cars, and it was gratifying to observe 
these infusions created no disturbance in the minds of my 
aristocratic friends, but that the man in the blouse and the 
old woman with her bundle on her lap, were accommodated 
with room as cordially as if they were in all respects their 
equals. The humbler parties were also quite as much at 
ease, and conversation flowed as cheerfully as if no difference 
of any kind existed between the parties. It is needless to 
say that such intercourse would not follow in England or 



PARIS. 143 

America. In. the former country particularly, forbidding 
superciliousness and servile awe would be as distinctly 
marked, on either side, as the line of snow and summer on 
an Alpine mountain. 

Among the pleasant results of this easy flow of condition, 
was the superior politeness of the waiting women at the 
refreshment stations over those upon the English railways. 
There is no necessity here of any brutal tone to impress a 
notion of your consequence. You find them watching your 
motions, and looking into your eyes, when they catch them, 
with a smile of such sparkling good nature, that it is hard 
to persuade yourself they have not been waiting there for 
years on purpose to persuade you, that you, of all persons 
in the world, are just the one whom they are the most de- 
lighted to see. Under these circumstances you feel it to be 
a sort of privilege to put your hand in your pocket, and the 
result is, that the refreshment, which began as a lunch at the 
first station, lengthens into a consecutive meal all along the 
road. 

The agricultural appearance of the country on the line 
between Calais and the capital, is not so fine as that which 
stretches across England between Liverpool and London. 
Though well cultivated, it has not that verdant richness, nor 
that prim and exact appearance, which the matchless hus- 
bandry of the English farmer confers upon his fields. This 
results partly from the everlasting English showers, which 
are so favorable to the verdure of the sward on his side, and 
partly to that minute subdivision of the soil of Prance into 
the hands of myriads of proprietors, which prevents hedg- 
ing and trimming, or any systematic mode of rural orna- 
ment. You seldom see a hedge or fence here, and miles 
and miles of country roll before the eye, without anything 
to break the flow of the cultivated plain, except now and 



144 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

then a clump of trees, or an occasional village of stone 
cottages, built so closely together, that each seems to be 
afraid to be alone, and the very streets between them appear 
choked and tortured by the determined inclination for com- 
pression. 

The surface of the landscape is, however, by no means 
absent of diversity. Every acre is divided into shreds of 
ownership, and the colors of the different crops in various 
stages of advancement, make one vast patchwork of abund- 
ance. Many of these strips, indeed the most of them, are 
scarcely fifty yards by ten, but nevertheless they belong to 
different owners, or at the least are worked by separate 
lessees. The independent ownership, however, is immense,' 
there being between seven and eight millions of landed pro- 
prietors in France, out of a population of thirty-six millions. 
This magnificent result proceeds from that constitutional 
reform of the great French Revolution, which abolished the 
right of a dying person to dispose of his property by will, 
compelling its division by law equally among those natural 
heirs, whom it is the duty of a man to love. This excel- 
lent provision knocked primogeniture and entail in the head, 
and dividing up estates at the end of every few years, erad- 
icated the feature of great landlords, and distributed their 
accumulations regularly back among the people. No 
agglomeration could last longer than a lifetime (except in 
cases of a single heir), but must be dislocated for the com- 
mon safety, and parceled into various hands for the common 
benefit. Every new generation had then a fair chance at 
the soil, and in a period of scarcely sixty years, a domain 
that had been two-thirds usurped by a profligate nobility 
and an abandoned church, was redeemed into a subdivision 
of eight millions of parts, each of which now boasts an 
independent tiller of the soil. This democratic law was the 



PARIS. 145 

legacy of the old French Revolution. Napoleon was too 
wise to attempt to disturb it ; the kings who have succeeded 
him have never dared to tamper with or limit it, and the 
people of France, happen what may, prize it too highly ever 
to relinquish it. 

At first sight, this great law may seem arbitrary to us, 
who are accustomed to unlimited control of what we pos- 
sess, but upon examination there will be few to deny that 
it is just. The State has fully performed its duty when it 
protects a man, to his dying hour, in what he has legally 
and honestly obtained ; but it is deeply concerned whether 
that man may, by an arbitrary whim, which rises from his 
coffin to reign after him, saddle it with the care and culture, 
and perhaps the difficult restraint, of a dozen paupers, whom 
he may make, in order to create a millionaire out of some 
favorite and perhaps worthless child. The law therefore 
merely requires a man to be just, and interferes only to see 
that his property flows equally among those natural heirs, 
who, by the divine laws of Nature, it is proper, as I said 
before, for a man to love. There is not the least hardship 
in this, but on the contrary it is eminently paternal and 
kind. Every good man should approve a guarantee against 
the danger of his nature being perverted from justice by the 
adoption of unjust hates ; while if he be soundly and pro- 
perly averse to the enrichment of some wicked heir who 
stands in the viaduct of his succession, he is not prevented 
from disposing of his property, by gift, while still in health. 
The wise and good, at times, venture to do this ; but there 
is small danger of such evasion of the law on the part of the 
bad. Experience gives us too many examples of avarice 
clinging to its hoards, in the hope of holding them a day 
longer from the teeth of Death — a few moments more — to 
allow us to indulge this fear. 



146 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

I have called this law a democratic law, and it is ques- 
tionable if a country can continue democratic without it. 
The abolishment of entails is of no effect without its help, 
and that feature of our constitution which forbids them 
threatens soon to be overbalanced by the desire which is 
growing up, among the rich in the United States, to dignify 
family wealth, by the preference of particular heirs, in order 
to leave upon their shoulders the prestige of an opulent 
genealogy. Already there are many instances in our 
country where property has been left to an eldest son 
as the guardian of a remnant of a family, and unless some 
effectual check be applied, we may have an aristocracy 
among us, the names of which will be as formidable to the 
poor as those of hereditary nobles, and by wills and testa- 
ments the law of primogeniture will be effectuated and 
maintained as absolutely as it is now in England. There is 
no check for this except in the adoption of a law abrogating 
wills and testaments, and never would it be more timely than 
at present, while the gold of California is returning to de- 
vour up the land from the next generation, by its aggrega- 
tion into huge estates. 

The principal towns I passed through, in my route to 
Paris, were St. Omer, Lille, Douay, Arras, Amiens and 
Beauvais. Lille is a fine city of seventy-three thousand 
inhabitants, and is one of the most considerable manufac- 
turing places in all France. Amiens is a fortified city on 
the river Somme, of forty-seven thousand inhabitants, and 
famous for the celebrated peace which was consummated 
between France and England in 1802. It is intersected by 
canals, like some of the Dutch cities, but is filled with fine 
houses, and, from the glimpse I got of it during a few mi- 
nutes' walk, seems a very handsome city. Arras is situated 
on the river Scarpe, and, though it has but 24,000 inhabi- 



PARIS. 147 

tants, is a place of considerable trade. It was a capital city 
in the time of Caesar, who conquered it fifty-two years be- 
fore the Christian era, but it is chiefly notable now as the 
birth-place of that extraordinary man, Maximilian Robes- 
pierre. 

At five o'clock in the afternoon, after a journey of eight 
hours, I was landed in Paris, and at the close of a brief and 
very courteous examination of my baggage by the octroi 
officers of the city, I called a voiture and was soon safely 
deposited at the door of the Hotel des Princes, Rue Richelieu. 
Dusty and fatigued, I was prepared for immediate freshen- 
ing and repose, but instead of getting it by an access suited 
to my condition. I was taken in hand by a short gentleman, 
who commenced leading me up a sort of Jacob's ladder 
towards the region of the clouds. I stopped him in his 
aspirations, and inquired if the hotel was not provided with 
a windlass for the lodgers of the upper stories. The little 
gentleman seemed to be very much pleased at my idea, and 
comforted me with a promise that I should be provided 
with a better chamber in the morning, making his apology 
out of the statement, that the hotel at that moment was en- 
tirely packed. I took a little pains to inquire into the ac- 
curacy of the representation on the following morning, but 
found the contrary to be the case. I then discovered it to 
be the custom in these Parisian hotels to land a new comer 
upon the topmost loft, and from thence to let him gradually 
down successive stages like an English auctioneer according 
to his willingness to pay an increasing price. 

The Hotel des Princes, or Hotel day prance, as it is pro- 
nounced, is celebrated for its table d'hote, and according to 
.French notions of dining, I suppose it is deserving of its 
fame. The grand saloon in which the table is spread is 
truly superb in fashion and in decoration, and the dinner 



148 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

consists, or rather it did consist on the Sunday afternoon of 
my arrival, of thirteen courses. When it is considered, 
however, that after all the ingenuity of cuisine which pro- 
duces such a variety of dishes, a man is still left to manage 
them with a single stomach, the advantage becomes a doubt- 
ful one, and you are tempted to long again for the simplicity 
of English joints, or the sensible congruity of your own 
board at home. 

In nothing, are the habits and characteristics of the French 
and English more distinctly marked than in their respective 
styles of feeding. At an English hotel table, which of 
course represents the best style of private living, you enter 
the general dining-room, take a seat at a side table by your- 
self, and if the joints are ready, which they are at four or 
five o'clock, according to the custom of the different houses, 
you call for your dinner. You begin by asking for an even- 
ing newspaper and a pint of wine, and fill up the order by 
calling for soup, to be followed by salmon, roast beef, or 
mutton, as the case may be. You get the newspaper at 
once ; in about fifteen minutes you get your pint of wine, 
and in about fifteen minutes more your soup is placed upon 
the table. You must not hope for it sooner, but after that, 
everything follows with great exactness and in regular suc- 
cession. Next to your salmon comes a huge mountain of 
beef or a whole leg of lamb, from which you cut collops to 
your heart's content, and retain as long as you wish, unless 
you choose to release it at the polite request of the waiter, 
who may want it " for another gentleman, please" There 
are no fancy dishes, and you cannot, except very rarely, get 
either puddings or pies. The half of an immense cheese, 
weighing perhaps from twenty to thirty pounds, is set before 
you instead, and you make your dessert out of that with the 
assistance of the remainder of your wine. Such is an Eng- 



A FRENCH DINNER. 149 

lish hotel dinner, and it is needless to say, that if you have 
any appetite you rise from it full and content. 

A French dinner requires the same time for its perform- 
ance, but it is eminently social, and divides its charms for 
the palate between the delights of gossip and intrigue. In 
the way of eating, however, it is a dinner of shreds and 
patches, scarcely any part of which you know, and the 
entire bulk of which, in actual food, would appear truly 
insignificant, if you could only see it laid in the beginning, 
before the artist's knife went into it to sliver it for the de- 
lusion of eight or nine score of people. The deficit, how- 
ever, is ingeniously made up by rolls of bread some twelve 
or fourteen inches long, which are laid beside your plate, 
and which you insensibly fill yourself with, during the in- 
tervals of the courses, to aid you in sipping the bottle of 
claret which is furnished with the bread. You rise with the 
wing of a chicken, the hind quarters of a frog, a wafer of 
beef, a shaving of mutton, and a fragment of salmon stowed 
away inside you in successive layers of biscuit and bread 
moistened with wine, and as you walk away from the table, 
you can scarcely resist the impression that you would make 
a capital chowder or pot-pie, if you could only endure being 
boiled. Among the whole of this melange you are never 
treated to butter (either in England or France) unless you 
specially demand it, and the pepper of both countries is of 
a flavor that is almost offensive to an American palate. In 
France, you have but little chance to use it, for neither of 
that, nor of salt, do they allow more than an acorn full to 
five or six persons. Indeed, they seem to regard it as an 
insult to their art when you use either. The English and 
continental butter is, however, unbearable to an American, 
without salt, and we recognize each other continually, in 



150 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

traveling, by the ceremony of kneading salt through it with 
our knives as the first preliminary to our meals. 

After such a French dinner as I have just described, during 
the course of which I should not omit to mention that I 
noticed several Frenchmen dilute their champagne with 
water, I went forth to take a glimpse of the city before end- 
ing the previous fatigues of the day by retiring to bed. 
Though it was Sunday, I found most of the shops open in 
the larger thoroughfares, and was enabled to supply myself 
with a pair of gloves at a very fine dry-goods store nearly 
opposite my hotel. In all directions the streets were 
thronged with promenaders, the most prominent of whom 
were continually the soldiers and the grisettes. These latter, 
the most of whom w r ore little caps, had their hair dressed 
with an exceeding neatness, and carried themselves along in 
a manner that was graceful to a charm. Their motion is a 
sort of gentle oscillation without being a swagger, and each 
appeared to me to be a sort of high sample of a finished 
Bowery girl, with more simplicity of expression, and without 
any shade of her disdain. 

The prevalence of well dressed gentlemen and ladies was 
likewise large, and all of them exhibited a most exqui- 
site taste in their attire. The difference observable in 
this latter art, between France and England is very great, 
and widest in relation to the females. An English woman is 
all flounces and curls ; a French woman wears neither, and is 
all simplicity and style. An English woman, thus bunched 
up and smothered, betrays nothing regular in the way of 
outline, while a French woman is all undulation and all 
grace. The men come from the hands of their Parisian 
tailors with equal advantage, and wear their garments with 
an admirable ease, while the English have their fine, manly 
forms completely disfigured with habits of the most barba- 



THE STREETS OF PARIS. 151 

rous cut. The English are the worst dressed people in the 
world. The Americans the best. ' We exceed even the 
French, and the reason is as obvious as why we excel both 
of them in daguerreotypes. Everybody dresses well in the 
United States, from the mechanic to the man of fortune, and 
where the genius of an entire nation of twenty-five millions 
of people is turned upon the development of a certain art, 
they are sure to exceed those with whom the effort is con- 
fined to a few easy thousands. The art of daguerreotyping 
is restrained in like manner in England and in France ; but 
in the United States, where it is open to the experiments of 
all, it has reached a point of perfection which leaves the Euro- 
pean artist far behind. 

Another very striking difference in the appearance of the 
streets of London and Paris is the solemnity you find in the 
former and the gaiety which pervades every portion of the 
latter. In the London streets you scarcely ever hear the 
sound of a human voice. The crash and din of caos and 
drays and omnibuses occupy the atmosphere alone, and not 
a street cry, or a casual laugh, or a bit of side-walk chat 
relieves your ear. Everything is sullen or sedate, and the 
wayfarers go along gravely, with their mouths closed and 
their faces set. In Paris, everybody talks; everybody 
smiles ; and everybody seems to have come forth because 
they are so happy that it is quite impossible for them to 
stay at home. The whole line of the Boulevards, which is 
the main promenade, is filled with cafes and splendid shops 
that look as if they ought never to be closed, while about 
the doors of the former, gentlemen and their ladies cluster 
as thick as flies — the first smoking, and the other sipping 
coffee or sweet waters, as they nod to their friends who pass 
along. Among these groups about the cafes also sits the 
politician, reading his evening paper, or disputing on the last 



152 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

measure up in the Assembly; the soldier recounting his 
exploits, or calculating on prospects of military changes here 
and there, or mauvais sujets relating real or pretended adven- 
tures of the day before with some fair one in the Bois de 
Boulougne, or swearing to some pretended conquest at the 
opera, with all the vehemence of falsehood. Throughout 
these throngs, stationary and mobile, work in and out a class 
of newspaper venders and match boys, who cry out their 
wares, while swarms of little flower girls, despite of all resist- 
ance, press to your seat, and force a rose-bud or some exqui- 
site daisy in your button-hole. This class of industrii are 
very numerous and very persevering. A foreigner may 
get rid of them, for he brushes them ofF without any deli- 
cacy, but it is almost impossible for an American, with his 
notions of softness to the sex, to resist their importunities. 
It serves you not at all to say " I do not want any flowers, 
my dear !" or even to throw the rose that is laid before you 
back into their baskets. When you think they are gone, 
and have turned your head to resume your observation of 
the promenade, you feel them suddenly at your shoulder, 
and turn to find a flower interjected in your highest button, 
as a flag of conquest. It is quite impossible to discredit 
such skill and perseverance, so you smile in spite of your 
annoyance, the little girl smiles too at having carried her 
point, and you hand her a sous or two, according to the 
change in your pocket. 

After resting at one of these places and enjoying this 
flower experience for the first time, I rose and pursued my 
walk along the Boulevards to the Rue de la Paix, by the 
superb column Napoleon, to the gardens of the Tuilleries, 
then to the Place de la Concorde (where stood the guillotine 
in the first French Revolution), and from thence found my 
course into the celebrated Champs Elysees. Over all, and 



THE CHAMPS ELYS 



153 



through all of this scene, was one sparkle of gaiety, and the 
farther I advanced along this fairy region the more I felt 
impressed that I had fallen upon a carnival. The grand 
avenue of the Champs Elysees was thronged with fine car- 
riages rilled with splendid women. The promenades which 
bound it, and the walks that stretched away on every side 
underneath majestic trees, were filled with sauntering 
couples ; and here and there the view was dotted with little- 
throngs which gathered about exhibitions of learned dogs, 
oraculous women, or the drolleries of Punch and Judy. In 
another part of the scene, a circle of wooden horses per- 
formed an everlasting round at the command of a fellow who 
turned a crank in the centre ; in another, a temple or pagoda 
appeared filled with gaudily attired young women, who 
sang by turns, accompanied by a good orchestra, for the 
amusement of audiences who took coffee or wine from the 
keeper of the establishment. Further on, in the advance, 
another and another of these cafe chantant appeared, while 
on this side and that a flageolet, a hand organ, or violin, 
would appeal for charity to some cripple who had been 
wounded in some action, or lost his limbs by the explosion 
of some mine. While pursuing these observations, and be- 
fore the night had set in, I looked aloft into the clear blue 
sky, which I had not welcomed since I left the open ocean, 
to observe Monsieur Poitevin's balloon, that had ascended 
some two hours before from the Champ de Mars. It now 
hung poised like a speck in space, with a wagon and a pair 
of ponies pendant below its car, in which wagon sat the 
undaunted Madame Poitevin, the modern Europa of the 
Champ de Mars. After this, night soon settled upon this 
fairy scene, and in place of daylight, tapers sparkled in all 
parts of the Arabian grove where I had plunged. Over- 
come, however, with fatigue and novelty, I found my mind 



7* 



154 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

too much sated for further observation, so at this point I 
called a voiture to drive me home, and put an end to my 
first afternoon in Paris. 

But my observations did not rest here, for on my road 
home I drove in sight of two theatres in full blast, and on 
stopping at a cafe to refresh myself with a drink, I found 
myself confronting a billiard-table with players hard at 
work, whilst sprinkled in other portions of the room were 
several parties of soldiers and others deeply immersed in 
the excitement of cards and dominoes. With this conclu- 
sion of what had gone before, I felt chartered to wind up 
and make no further extension of my first night's notes on 
Paris. 



Paris, June, 1851. 

The Places of Paris — The Bath — Pere la Chaise. 

A man who sleeps eleven hours by the watch, without a 
dream, gives tolerable proof of an easy state of mind and 
a capacity for redress against fatigue. This was the extent 
of my repose during what may be termed my first night in 
France, and I opened my eyes at eight o'clock on the follow- 
ing morning, trying to realize that I was actually in Paris, 
the city of crimes and glories, of revolutions and of barri- 
cades, without avail. It is often harder to persuade one's 
self of a fact than to adopt an illusion, and as I laid in that 
state of luxurious loaferism which belongs to the half hour 
that succeeds a heavy sleep, with nothing really strange 
within the circle of my eye, the actuality of my situation 
continually eluded me, and all the perceptions I could com- 
mand persisted in placing me at home. In a little while, 
however, the street cries and organs penetrated my chamber 
w r ith such increasing power, that I began to appreciate a new 
state of things, so I rose, and having partly dressed, went 
to the window. There was no longer any doubt in my mind 
as to where I was, for right opposite to me, in the window 
of a house which seemed to have been borrowed from one 
of the scenes of Monsieur Morbleu, was Rigolette setting 



156 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

out her flower-pot, and stuffing a handful of tender salad 
through the bars of a gilt cage to a saucy little canary bird, 
which kept fluttering at her fingers with the liveliest pre- 
tense of indignation. By-and-by the flower-pot was watered, 
and the pet was fed and teased, and kissed and talked to, 
and Eigolette rose to turn away. At this moment she 
caught sight of me, and perceiving from my attitude that I 
had been observing her, she smiled as if she were delighted 
to see me, and with a graceful inclination of her head, and 
a " good morning, Monsieur," disappeared. My first impres- 
sion was, that I had been taken for an acquaintance, but a 
moment's reflection convinced me that it was only a natural 
effort of that inherent politeness of a French woman, which 
exhibits itself under all circumstances, and the philosophy 
of which appears to be, to convince you that you have given 
no offense. This was right. It was impossible for me to 
forego the pleasure of looking at and admiring that spruce 
little beauty and her bird ; but had she been an American, 
she would probably have turned up her nose and floated 
out of sight, as if the involuntary use of my eyes had been 
a high offense. When the little beauty had disappeared, I 
glanced up and down the line of street commanded by my 
window, and discovered the same penchant for flowers car- 
ried out as was evinced by her, and as I saw exhibited in 
the number of flower girls, who, the afternoon before, had 
thronged the Boulevards. In England the love of flowers 
is carried to a considerable lei ^th, but the English are 
exceeded in that passion by the French. Nearly every 
house has a parterre upon the balcony that crowns the roof, 
and even the densest tenements, where poverty is packed, 
exhibit in their foul apertures the strange contrast of some 
fresh and fragrant blossom. Indeed, the generality of their 
use has led to the enactment of a law forbidding flower-pots 



THE BATHS. , 157 

to be set out in front windows, without an iron bar or lattice 
work to guard against their falling in the street. Conse- 
quently, nearly every house is ornamented in this way, and 
balconies are very numerous. 

I felt entitled to a bath after the dusty journey of the 
day before, and as that always affords refreshing observation 
in a new city, I set out at once to look one up. I have an 
instinct in such matters, and my steps soon brought me up 
before a court-yard and a sign, which, without any instinct, 
I could scarcely have missed. A very amiable looking 
woman, who sat on a high stool behind a sort of counter, 
and who was sewing, though evidently only for amusement 
from her perfect ease, welcomed me with the utmost cor- 
diality, and indeed seemed so very glad to see me, that I 
was uncertain for a moment, whether I had not this time 
been really mistaken for some regular customer of the 
establishment. I expected when she first laid her work on 
the counter to find her seizing my hands to congratulate me 
on my return to town, and was quite relieved when she 
merely directed my attention incidentally to a fine large cat 
which her movements had disturbed, as a mauvais snjet or 
hard case. 

After this ceremony, business was quite in order, and the 
lady, handing me a card of prices, requested to know what 
kind of a bath Monsieur would like to have. As an American, 
I could make but one selection, and that, of course, was the 
highest priced one, and inasmuch as that promised to be 
very novel, being accompanied, according to the card, by 
seven robes, and named a bain de Algerien, I accepted it with 
something like earnestness. The instant my order had been 
transmitted to the attendants of the establishment, I became 
sensible of a rush of women here and there, as if a pulk of 
Cossacks had been suddenly unfolded, while a serious look- 



158 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

ing Gaul with his sleeves rolled up, and a towel on his arm, 
improvised himself before me from an alcove, and waved 
me across a court-yard into a glass corridor divided into 
rows of doors. Here I was met by another fellow of like 
aspect, who, putting his hand upon my shoulder, gently 
turned me into one of the apartments. As soon as I had 
entered, a third fellow rushed in, and without noticing me at 
all, commenced spreading a large sheet in the bathing tub, 
so as to completely line it from top to bottom. His depar- 
ture was the signal for the fellow with the towel on his arm 
to enter and turn on the water, which having done with 
workmanlike celerity, he signified to me that it was his plea- 
sure I should undress. 

At this point I was visited with some particles of doubt. 
I felt a great repugnance to undressing before a man, but as 
the Gaul was much bigger than myself, and seemed to have 
no notion of leaving the room, I thought I would go through. 
He assisted me to disrobe, and having seen me fairly de- 
posited in the sheet, without attempting to tie me up in it, 
as I at one time had vaguely apprehended he might take a 
fancy to do, departed with an intimation that he would hold 
himself at the command of the bell-rope whenever I should 
please to ring. Before I rang, however, he returned, of his 
own motion, and inquired if I did not wish to buy some soap. 
As I had already discovered the absence of this article, I re- 
plied in the affirmative, and had the satisfaction of seeing 
him vanish again after I had made what I considered a judi- 
cious selection. At this point I may as well state, on the 
authority of subsequent experience, that soap is held to be a 
sacred article at all the hotels and baths of Europe, and (like 
candles, which, under the name of " bougies" figure as 
pioneers at the head of all your hotel bills on the continent) 
is never to be obtained without a special order or the levy 



THE BATHS. 159 

of a special charge. Indeed, there are five things which de- 
serve to be ranked together, for the difficulty with which 
they are to be obtained on the continent. These are pepper, 
salt, butter, candles and soap, all articles of the first neces- 
sity to an American, all profusely furnished at any of our 
hotels at home, but only to be obtained in this country by 
special tribute and peculiar address. 

After a repose of some twenty minutes, a la Algerien, 
during which I philosophized on the foregoing facts, I 
thought I would venture to summon the genie of the bath, 
in order to see what course he would take next. The seven 
robes were yet to come. About three minutes elapsed 
after I had pulled the bell, when he rushed in with a huge 
pile of stuffs under his arm, from which, after telling me to 
rise in the bath, he extracted two large linen cloths, as hot 
as they could be made without being scorched, and dexte- 
rously plastered me in front with one, and with the other 
behind. In this state, though I confess I winced a little, I 
got upon the floor with even features, determined to pre- 
serve my temper at all hazards. Unfortunately for this 
resolution, however, I was so much occupied with the ridicu- 
lous novelty of my situation, that I did not understand a 
question which the genius put to me, and answering vacant- 
ly in the affirmative, was surprised to see him twist a heavy 
towel round his hand, and after a Russian flourish, discharge 
the end of it in the middle of my shoulders. The time for 
ceremony and politeness was now past, and throwing my- 
self in a position, which might have received the encomiums 
of many of my Sixth Ward friends, I exclaimed in decided 
English, " My good friend, if you do that again, I'll take 
the liberty of knocking you down !" I was very well 
understood, for instantly the fierceness faded from the 
features of the Gaul, and with a " Pardon, Monsieur '," he 



160 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

spread out his hands, and melted into a smile, the sweetness 
of which would have made the fortune of a painter, if he 
could have transferred it to the canvas. 

As a compromise with his original intentions, however, I 
suffered the fellow to envelope me in a thick-flowered robe, 
which also was glowing with heat, and sitting on a sofa, 
allowed my limbs to be similarly swathed with hot cloths. 
Huge slippers being thrust over my bundled feet, the genie 
motioned me to recline ; whereupon he suddenly faded from 
my vision, and I found myself sinking into a gentle sleep. 
I laid in this way for half an hour, and then awoke with a 
sensation of delightful freshness, and feeling as if I was fit 
to run a foot-race for a man's life. For this bath in the 
Algerine fashion I paid about three francs, and notwithstand-* 
ing its startling features, I adhered to the style during the 
remainder of my stay in Paris, with the simple difference 
of having it administered to me in my own room, at the 
hotel, for the addition of two more francs. 

I found the Boulevards quite as gay after breakfast, as 
they were in the easy part of the afternoon before, though 
filled with a somewhat different class of people. There 
were fewer well-dressed females, and the men had more of 
a business air ; nevertheless, all were loungers, and it was 
difficult to imagine that any of the throng except the bust- 
ling little grisettes, had any task beyond sauntering away 
their time in that delightful place. Frenchmen never walk 
fast through the streets ; if they are in a hurry they ride. 
The only person who can by any chance be seen walking 
swift in Paris, is an American, or perhaps a grisette, who 
will hurry at all hours and seasons, unless she is with her 
sweetheart. 

I look upon these little creatures as among the most 
worthy people of Paris. They are as busy as bees all day 



THE GRISETTES OF PARIS. 161 

long, and though report says they take too much margin in 
their gaieties on Sunday, and walk occasionally too deep into 
the Bois de Boulogne, one cannot help pardoning them, in 
advance, for all their transgressions. They represent labor 
in its most devoted shape, and have a better right to dance 
and sing, and snap their fingers, than the laced ladies whom 
they ornament, and who confer nothing upon the world, but 
a little too much of themselves. Indeed they enjoy them- 
selves to the top of their bent, whenever they are let loose, 
and next to the soldiers, are the chief feature of Paris. 
Like the soldiers, however, they always behave decorously, 
and never give offense, either in their conduct or their attire. 
On the contrary, their dress is exquisitely tasteful, and their 
manners, though refined by peculiar art, have the appear- 
ance of the utmost simplicity. You are very often struck 
with their extreme beauty as well as neatness, and at first 
can scarcely resist an inclination to put your hand in your 
pocket, as you do when you see a charming statuette, to 
buy a pair of them for your mantle-piece at home. 
Among them you see the freshest faces and purest complex- 
ions in the world, some looking like ripe nectarines, under 
their indescribable and inimitable little caps, and others so 
white and so fresh, that they seem to have been dipped in 
milk, and make you fancy that they smell of the meadow. 
Many of the ladies of Paris, too, have the same remarkable 
delicacy of flesh and blood. Indeed, I think the Parisian 
females excel those of London in complexion, for while the 
former are distinguished by the characteristics which I men- 
tion, too many of the latter look as if they had been roughly 
built of blocks of raw roasting beef. 

In your way along the Boulevards you are obliged to divide 
your attention between the rich shop-windows and the swarms 
amid which you move, and you will find this field of observa- 



162 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

tion scarcely inferior to the first. It is like moving through 
the French department of the London Exhibition, the goods 
being displayed with still more taste, and the collection 
embracing a large super-addition of articles. The most pro- 
minent features are the jewelry and fancy stores, and per- 
haps the most peculiar are the print shops. The windows 
of those are filled with nude figures, highly colored, in every 
variety of posture, and though most of them are such as 
would be liable to seizure in New York, the Parisian people, 
male and female, flock around them, and gentlemen stop to 
point them out to ladies on their arms, as clever pleasant- 
ries, or happy works of art. 

Among the decorations of the stores, looking-glass seems 
to be a very favorite material. Some of them, like the 
cafes and boudoirs in private dwellings, are entirely lined 
with it, and one store has even its square outside columns, 
which answer to our granite pillars, sheathed in long mirrors, 
which are continually exposed upon the street. They suffer 
no danger. There is no vicious mischief in the Paris popu- 
lace, and they take as much pride in protecting what is beau- 
tiful to the public eye, as if each had a personal interest in 
the preservation. Great taste is generally exhibited in the 
use of mirrors for decorative purposes, and queer effects are 
as often produced. I was surprised to see the train of wait- 
ers at my hotel disappear on the occasion of my dinner, in 
an end of the room, which consisted of a burnished wall of 
glass. On following them closely, however, I discovered 
that they passed through a huge aperture made by a large 
mirror, turning inwards, without evidence of hinge or handle. 

Still following the Boulevards, as the most notable part 
of Paris, you arrive at the Rue de la Paix, which leads off 
towards the Tuilleries, and presents you a view, in its line, 
of the Place Vendome, and the superb triumphal bronze 



THE BOULEVARDS. 163 

column of Napoleon. This is built of twelve hundred large 
cannon taken from the Austrians and Russians in the Ger- 
man campaign of 1805, and surmounted by a statue of 
Napoleon, as General, eleven feet high. The original figure 
represented him as Emperor; but was taken down at the 
coming in of Louis XVIIL, and melted for the horse of 
Henry IV., on Pont Neuf, while the royal flag and fleur de 
lis supplied the Emperor's place. Louis Philippe, however, 
found it wise to re-inaugurate the figure in its present shape 
in 1833. No king will ever meddle with it again. The 
column is a magnificent work of art. It is modeled after 
the superb and world-renowned column of Trajan, at Rome, 
but exceeds it in size by one-twelfth. Its height may be 
estimated by the fact that the figure on its top appears 
to the eye of a person in the street to be only of the size 
of life. 

Passing along the Boulevards, without turning into the 
Rue de la Paix, you at length reach their southern termina- 
tion in the Place de la Concorde. This is celebrated as the 
old Place de la Revolution, where stood the guillotine of the 
Reign of Terror; where Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette, 
and afterwards Robespierre and Danton fell. This memo- 
rable site is now occupied by the great obelisk of Luxor, 
which formerly stood before the temple of Thebes, in Egypt, 
where it was first erected by Rhamesis III., or Sesostris as 
he is otherwise called, fifteen hundred years before Christ — 
fifteen hundred years before countless millions of mankind 
had the advantage of a Redeemer. This single stone or 
monolith is seventy-two feet three inches high, seven feet 
and a half wide at the base, and declines to five feet and 
four inches in width at the top. Its removal from Luxor to 
the sea, occupied eight hundred men for three months ; and 
the genius of the engineer, who, by the subtle combinations 



164 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of modern machinery, raised it on its present pedestal with- 
out breaking it, is celebrated on the new base of the monu- 
ment with the most extravagant encomiums. The hapless 
heathen who quarried it from its original repose, and placed 
in on a still higher plinth, did not, however, seem to think 
its fashion or erection to be a matter of much credit. In- 
deed, they did many greater things, of which I have not 
time to speak, and we cannot help regretting that a mistake 
in their chronology should oblige them all to be damned. 

The centre of the Place de la Concorde affords, perhaps, 
the finest view in Paris. Before you, you behold, through 
noble gardens, at the distance of about half a mile, the 
Palace of the Tuilleries; you turn, and behind stretches 
the grand avenue through the Champ Elysees, ending, at 
the distance of something more than a mile, with the grand 
Triumphal Arch of Napoleon, built at the Barrier de l'Etoile 
to commemorate the modern victories of France. Napoleon 
decreed this in 1806, but owing to its immense size, it was 
not finished at the time of his abdication, and the kings who 
succeeded him thought, at various times, of dedicating it to 
other ends, and what they considered more loyal heroes. 
But wiser thoughts prevailed, and it was finished in 1836, 
with Napoleon's figure prominent upon its southern facade, 
in the position of being crowned by the Goddess of Victory. 
It is safe from future royal interference. Like the column 
of Vendome, and everything which relates to Bonaparte, it 
is protected by the affection of thirty-six millions of people, 
and wo be to the man who henceforth puts a slight upon the 
hero of their soul. It is impossible to exaggerate the affection 
with which the French people regard Napoleon Bonaparte. 
I have seen the tears start in their eyes when they have been 
speaking of him, and they generally lose their balance when 
they allude to the close of his career. His tomb at the 



THE BARRIER DE L ETOILE. 



165 



Hotel des Invalides has many pilgrims, and the railing of 
the column of Vendome is continually hung with chaplets 
in various stages of decay, placed there in an affectionate 
spirit by the old soldiers who have fought in his campaigns, 
or their sons or daughters, to whom they have bequeathed 
the pious task. 

The arch at the Barrier de l'Etoile is, I believe, after the 
pattern of the arch of Titus, at Rome, but it is much larger, 
and in every way grander in its execution. Some notion of 
its magnitude may be obtained from the fact that much 
time elapsed after it was decreed and planned before the 
engineer could devise a foundation which would be suitable 
to bear the enormous structure. At length a foundation of 
solid blocks of granite was sunk twenty-five feet below the 
surface, and the massive pile, 152 feet high and 137 feet 
broad, rose above it. 

On your right hand from the centre of the Place de la 
Concorde, across a bridge of the same name which spans 
the Seine, you have the hall of the National Assembly, and 
equidistant on the left hand, you see the noble facade of the 
church of the Madelaine, the most magnificent structure in 
Paris. From the centre of the Place, therefore, you have a 
grand cross with the Tuilleries and the Triumphal Arch at 
either end, and the Madelaine and National Assembly on 
each hand. Beside the Obelisk of Luxor perform two splen- 
did fountains, and around the grand area of the place are 
countersunk delicious gardens, in what used formerly to be 
fosses, but which now are filled with flowers and trees, whose 
leafy tops are trimmed on a level with your walk. At the 
entrance of these sunken gardens sit colossal figures of 
females cut in marble with exquisite art, and typical of the 
great cities of France. 

At the great entrance, which pours from this place into 



166 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the Champs Elysees, stand the two celebrated marble groups 
of a restive horse checked by a man on foot grasping the 
reins, which we have seen so many hundred times repro- 
duced in plaster and in bronze. There are two similar 
groups on the other side at the gate which opens from the 
Place into the gardens of the Tuilleries, but they are inferior 
to the first. Sprinkled about the gardens of the Tuilleries, 
however, are many superb groups of statuary, several of them 
many hundred years old, with the marks of their age rever- 
ently left, in the shape of soot and soil, with now and then 
a delicate tendril of a creeping vine twining through some 
marble beauty's matchless fingers. They do not get into 
this condition from any neglect, but because they could not 
bear repeated cleaning without losing their correct propor- 
tions. Nearly all of them are nude, and it is hardly neces- 
sary for me to say that French notions of art have created 
them sufficient in every attribute. 

From the Place de la Concorde, therefore, though you 
have left the bulk of Paris to the east, you are in the very 
finest part of the city, in the midst of a scene which has no 
models of comparison for the direction of the imagination, 
and which is universally admitted to exceed any other spec- 
tacle of mere human decoration in the world. The Parisians 
do not fail to appreciate it equally with strangers, for at the 
close of the afternoon thousands pour into it from the various 
avenues, and diffuse themselves according to fancy and de- 
sire, into the alluring Champs Elysees or the delightful 
labyrinths of the Palace gardens. At the point of the Rue 
de la Concorde, where the tide pours from the Boulevards 
into the Place, it is a matter of the greatest skill to pass 
without being run over by the vehicles, or upset by the 
flying pedestrians. Scarcely any but a New Yorker, who 
is actually born among the omnibuses, is equal to the feat, 



PLACE DE LA BASTILE 



167 



of which fact I shall give the highest demonstration when I 
state that it required all the genius of James T. Brady, Esq., 
who is known to be unrivaled in omnibus philosophy, to 
conduct a party of four of us, as many times through the 
whirling dangers of this perilous pass.* Conscious, how- 
ever, that miscarriage on this subject would be perfectly 
fatal to his particular reputation on this subject, and aided 
by instincts sharpened to the highest point by the impulse 
of self-preservation, the party under him were each time 
successful in the effort. To balance the attractions of the 
Place de la Concorde, the Boulevards at their other end run 
to the Place de la Bastile, and near their northern termina- 
tion, lead to the Jardinof Plantes and its unrivaled museums 
on the southern banks of the Seine. 

The Place de la Bastile contains a lofty column in its cen- 
tre, that marks the site of the ancient prison, the destruction 
of which was the signal for the first revolution. It is likewise 
memorable as the place where the insurgents of June, 1848, 
made their last stand to defend the entrance of the Faubourg 
St. Antoine, on the barricade of which fell the indiscreet 
Archbishop of Paris, while endeavoring to dissuade the pa- 
triots to desist. Many of the houses here are chipped with 
the fusilade of that terrible occasion, and the bodies of 
the martyred ouvriers are buried in the vaults beneath the 
column. No inscription marks their resting place, but a 
florid eulogium is carved upon the monument in honor of those 



* Mr. Brady is "famous in the State of New York, for having used the 
expression — " that a resident of its metropolis was daily called on to ex- 
ercise more intellect, merely to keep out of the way of carts and omni- 
buses, than a member from the rural districts required, to qualify him 
for the Legislature." The remark was made in a political speech, and 
was drawn out by an imputation from a country speaker, against the 
morality and intelligence of the City Constituency, of which Mr. Brady 
was a member. 



168 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

who perished in the three days of July, for the elevation of 
Louis Philippe. Such is the state of history at present. It 
is not improbable, however, that the inscription for the men 
of June will be written, and well written, in the spring of 
1852. In a direction north-east from this portion of the Boule- 
vards you find the largest of the five abattoirs, in which the 
cattle are slaughtered for the city, and a short distance be- 
yond, in the same direction, the road leads to the celebrated 
cemetery of Pere la Chaise. 

The abattoirs are a very important feature of Paris. 
They were ordered to be built by Napoleon in 1809, with a 
view to removing the nuisance of private slaughter houses 
from the midst of the city. In 1818, the five which were 
decreed were finished, and from that time the butchers were 
required to close their former establishments and slaughter 
all their cattle in the public sheds. The one I visited on my 
road to Pere la Chaise, contains four immense stone build- 
ings for the purposes of slaughter, each of which is divided 
into sixteen different shops, which face each other, eight on 
a side, with a broad and sloping flagged way, and drain be- 
tween. In other parts of the grounds are commodious pens 
for sheep and oxen, and also places for drying the skins, and 
houses for melting the tallow. There are likewise buildings 
allotted to dealers in calves' feet and tripe. Every depart- 
ment is kept separate, the melters must not be tallow chan- 
dlers, and the butchers must sell in wholesale, or by the 
quarter, to small dealers, who purchase by auction at mar- 
kets in the city, for retail at their stalls. The meat must 
be taken to the shops during the night, or before four o'clock 
in the morning, and the men are not allowed to appear in 
the streets in the foul clothes they wear at the abattoirs. 
Still better, the abattoirs being all located beyond the bar- 
riers, no cattle are driven through the streets, an arrange- 






PERK LA CHAISE. 169 

ment which contributes very much to preserve the cleanliness 
and health of the city. The animals are driven directly 
to these receptacles, and are kept there at the cost of the 
butcher, until he is ready to slaughter them for market. 
The abattoir I visited is a model of the rest, and the weekly 
slaughterings amount to 800 oxen, 300 cows, 600 calves, 
and 3,000 sheep. 

The famous cemetery of Pere la Chaise, the beauty of 
which has been extolled so much, is situated on the slope of 
a hill which overlooks Paris from its top, and sweeps gently 
downwards to the level of the plain, embracing in its undu- 
lations an area of a hundred and fifty acres. It is therefore 
much inferior in size to Greenwood, and I may as well add 
at this stage, and previous to any description of it, that it is 
inferior to it also in arrangement and beauty. It has none 
of the grand trees of Greenwood, no carriage drives, no lakes, 
no sward, no blooming hedges, nicely trimmed, and winding 
you away in labyrinthine walks. It is, however, profusely 
filled with tombs of more superb dimensions, and it is marked 
with traits of sentiment, which much exceed those which pro- 
ceed from our duty to the dead. 

The French never visit the graves of their kindred or their 
loves with empty hands. A little flower-pot, bought at the 
market of the Madelaine, or a bouquet, is the tribute of one 
day ; an immortelle, or never-fading chaplet, is the offering 
of another. From time to time the former is refreshed 
with a little watering-pot, which may be hired of women 
near the gate, or the garlands multiplied with a new addi- 
tion, by a purchase in the same quarter. I saw tombs which 
were gray with age, bearing the fresh tributes of a week, 
while, crumbling on the railings, were innumerable chaplets 
in successive stages of decay, to show the regular visits of 
the pious hand which was still faithful to its friendship or 



8 



170 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

affection. Even tombs which marked the repose of those 
who could not be supposed to have kindred or surviving com- 
panions, were remembered by the sweet sentiment of some, 
who held admiration for their virtues. Through this deli- 
cate impulsion the tomb of Abelard and Heloise is contin- 
ually hung with immortelles, and kept bright with roses 
and other fragrant flowers ; while the laurel never dies on 
the earth which covers the remains of Ney and Moliere. 
Young maidens, sick at heart with the tender throes of love 
delayed, or crossed, are doubtless the devotees who scatter 
the offerings to the first ; and the stern soldier, and the 
poetical enthusiast, are the pilgrims to the soldier and the 
poet. 

By way of affording the widest scope to this delightful 
custom, the monuments of many of the graves are little 
marble temples, or chapels, the key of which is kept by the 
family of the deceased. These chapels have an open grated 
space in the door in front, and handsome windows in the 
sides or rear, many of which are ornamented with rich 
stained glass, to cast a cheerful light into the interior. A 
pure white altar is arranged like a toilet against the wall, a 
silver or gold crucifix stands in the centre, and on either 
side are stationed vases of fine artificial flowers, which per- 
haps were the pets of the deceased. A chair sits by the 
altar, on which the person who enters may repose, and 
which also seems to be there for the use of the departed in 
the interval of his or her unseen devotions. The number 
of wreaths or immortelles which hang about the wall, or are 
heaped upon the floor, mark the frequency of the visits 
which the place receives, while the inscriptions of "My 
mother," " My sister," or " My brother," that are woven in 
the sides of the chaplet, often indicate the relationship of 
the person who left it. The most careful cleanliness from 



PERE LA CHAISE. 171 

dust or stain is thus preserved within what otherwise would 
be a gloomy vault, and the place invested with a cheerful- 
ness, that is very tranquilizing to a wounded mind. The 
custom of floral decoration should be introduced with us, 
and the chaplets would doubtless find a ready market, as 
they do here, from the hands of female venders near the 
gates of Greenwood, on the very first day they would be 
offered there for sale. It is profitable to the heart to walk 
sometimes among the dead, and whatever serves to conquer 
the repulsion of the scene, is a service to the soul, and a 
help to Heaven. 



Paris, June, 1851. 

National drinks — English, American and French drinkers — 
The ceremony of the Mass. 

At the date of writing this letter, I have seen Paris pretty 
thoroughly, and like most of my countrymen who have en- 
joyed the same advantage, am prepared to express my pre- 
ference for it as a temporary residence over London, and, in- 
deed, over any city I ever visited. It is the caravansera of 
nations, the great museum of the arts, the Pantheon of con- 
tinental history, the camp of valor, the city of palaces, the 
show shop of Europe, the garden of revelry, Vanity Fair — 
where Philosophy and Folly, Worth and Vice, Atheism and 
Superstition, Sentiment and Beastiality, mix in one restless 
masquerade, to work out by fits and starts, and casual agglo- 
merations, the serious business of a nation's destiny. How 
the fashion of the task may be adapted to the proper fulfil- 
ment of the work, it is not yet the privilege of any man to 
say. Contrarieties very often work together for a harmo- 
nious end. No good exists without some element of evil. 
The very bread we daily eat is enriched with particles of 
poison. The Bible which nourishes our souls for Paradise, 
contains passages which no license could tolerate. Even 
Heaven itself flourishes to our hopes through the labors of 



PARIS. 173 

Lucifer, and we can reach the plains of Beulah only by tra- 
veling over his back. I shall therefore take Paris as I find 
it, neither praising her by the wholesale, nor condemning 
her in the lump, but awarding her credit and blame, accord- 
ing to her features and conduct, all the while adhering to the 
belief that she is destined, through her action or her fall, to 
redeem a hemisphere, and perform a still mightier service 
to mankind than she did in her great revolution of 1792. 

" Or by her fall" I am aware that my meaning in this 
expression will not be clearly understood, but as I design its 
explanation in another connection, I will let it pass at pre- 
sent, only premising that I do not mean to infer that she will 
ever again suffer the desecration of foreign conquest by an 
allied monarchial host. 

The reason why Paris is preferred over London, as a resi- 
dence, even by strangers who cannot speak her language, is 
not so much on account of the superiority of her climate, or 
her public gaieties, as the universal amiability and cheerful- 
ness of her people. Wherever you go, you receive a smile 
of undeniable welcome, and it is at first difficult to get rid of 
the impression that you have been expected, and that it is 
the common aim to make you a comfortable guest. Never- 
theless you are not stared at, and though you are liable to 
strict official observation, you enjoy, perhaps for the first 
time in your life, the delightful consciousness that you 
are free to walk as you list, without any one claiming to 
know where you came from, and whither you go. In Lon- 
don everything is different. A universal seriousness, if not 
sullenness, prevails in all quarters. If you are noticed at all, 
it is with a stare which seems to exclaim, " Who the devil 
are you ; where did you come from, and what are you doing 
here V In Paris the notice says, " Well, when did you ar- 
rive 1 how glad we all are to see you in Paris ! Why did 



174 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

you not come before !" I do not mean by this to disparage 
the true qualities of the English. The French exceed the 
English only in manners, and not in substantial hospitality 
and true politeness ; but it is the misfortune of their educa- 
tion and their conceit, as I have said before, to regard 
every man whom they do not know as inferior to an Eng- 
lishman, and by this error many of their better qualities are 
obscured. 

The New Yorkers have not much to boast of beyond them 
in this regard. Their municipal as well as national conceit 
is quite as extravagant, and in no city in the world is the 
tyranny of observation carried to a greater pitch. No man 
of any note can walk a square without some half dozen per- 
sons pause in his wake to see how he carries himself, and 
where he is bound ; and if he stops in at a restaurant or a 
billiard room, it is the subject of speculation to cliques of 
excellent persons on the sidewalk, who are ready to take his 
tastes in charge. He has no social independence, and after 
the rigid circumspection of the week, he must submit him- 
self to the terrorum of a Sunday ordeal, which obliges him 
either to lock himself at home during the day, or perform 
two pilgrimages to church to suffer the dull discourse of some 
slow fellow who cannot instruct him in anything. The 
French endure no such system of social bondage ; neither do 
the English ; nor does any civilized nation of the earth ex- 
cept our own. All of them, too, are more truly devout than 
we are, pay their services to Heaven with a better grace and 
a more evident relish, but that done, they take to their fields, 
their restaurants, their reading rooms, and drink their ale 
and wine in open view, without fear of social damnation and 
with nobody to make them afraid. 

And to the best of my observation it does them no harm ; 
while, as to the matter of drinking, those terrible results 



NATIONAL DRINKS 



175 



which are charged against it, have not yet met my eye. I 
have not seen a drunken man in either London or Paris, but 
I am persuaded that this does not proceed from any scheme 
on the part of the police to deprive temperance lecturers of 
material for business, by driving the examples out of the 
high road as soon as they occur, for I have seen hundreds 
begin and end their drinking without a single case" of maud- 
lin or ungovernable inebriety. The truth is they use better 
beverages and drink them more discreetly than we, and it is 
also the truth, that Americans are the most desperate drink- 
ers in the world. In England they drink ale, most of which 
is very thin ; in France and the nations of the continent 
they confine themselves to the bright and scarcely intoxi- 
cating wines which are indigenous to their climes; but m 
the United States the common cup is hell fire, popularly 
known under the name of brandy. Next to this is the most 
feverish and intoxicating of French wines — champagne — 
generally diluted with water when used by the French, but 
quaffed by us in goblets of profusion and always in its native 
strength. 

The common drink with us, however, is brandy, and so 
settled is the custom in its favor, that its use amounts to a 
challenge among drinkers, not to set it aside for any weaker 
mixture. " I drink nothing stronger than brandy — I don't !" 
is the ordinary exclamation with which simple young men, 
who wish to be thought dashing fellows, reply to an invita- 
tion to the bar ; while if one, doubtful of his powers, should 
attempt to take refuge in a lighter beverage, he is reproached 
as a sneak, and jeered up to the fourth-proof point of man- 
hood with the rest. To attempt to call for sarsaparilla or 
lemonade is to sink into contempt. The French, who make 
this spirit for us, very seldom use it, and doubtless look 
upon our consumption of it, with much the same kind of 



176 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

wonder that the unsophisticated Indian first looked upon the 
juggler who swallowed daggers and eat fire. 

This state of things is deserving of some attention, and 
particularly of the attention of our national legislators. The 
habits of our people, and their follies, are not to be corrected 
by Congress, it is true, but their weaknesses may be pro- 
tected from danger and many lives saved by proper legisla- 
tion. The duty upon brandy at present is beyond its original 
value ; it cannot be sold with profit at six cents a glass, and 
cannot be sold at all for three. The result is that instead 
of drinking a pure and comparatively harmless drink, we 
swallow poison that devours up our lives. The duty, 
which was levied upon it as an article of luxury, and with a 
view to circumscribing its use, was a most fatal and undis- 
criminating one. It did circumscribe the use of the pure 
article, but it did not reduce the consumption of a beverage 
called brandy, nor change the price of that terrible beverage 
to the poor. It simply increased the evil and made it more 
terrible. The bottles which might have once been faced by 
the drinker with a tolerable impunity from early death, are 
now set out before the infatuated devotee who worships 
Bacchus in this fiery form, filled with diseases of the liver, 
consumption, tumors, hydrocephalus, white swellings, ery- 
sipelas, and frenzy, and thus we have the spectacle of a 
paternal government reaping a revenue out of the annual 
sacrifice, in the most horrible manner, of the lives of a large 
number of its children. I have no doubt that the duty on 
brandy is obtained at the sacrifice of not less than the lives 
of fifty thousand of the citizens of the United States a year ; 
a number which would appal the world if subjected to the 
more merciful guillotine. All of these could be saved by a 
relinquishment of the tax, and the passage of a law making 
it penal to sell an adulterated article, leaving it to the inter- 



NATIONAL DRINKS. 177 

ested consumer to be his own inspector and informer — yet 
no man would dare to advocate this merciful reform in the 
National Congress, for fear of moral annihilation at the 
hands of the temperance socialists — therefore we must still 
go on treating brandy as an article of luxury, and deploring 
the destruction of the thousands of the poor, whom its vicious 
adulterations annually shrivel out of life. Other great evils 
fester in the same way, but we prefer to see the hideous cor- 
ruption quietly blot the surface of society, to speaking of it 
boldly with our mouths. 

Now that I find myself upon the subject of national drinks, 
I will take this opportunity to correct an error, which is 
very prevalent in the United States, in relation to cham- 
pagne. It is the common impression among Americans that 
most of the champagne consumed in the United States is 
spurious, and either never saw France, or is spuriously manu- 
factured in France, previous to its importation to the United 
States. This notion is entirely false. In no country can 
good champagne be obtained with more certainty than in our 
own, and the idea of an adulterated article manufactured 
from cider being the most prevalent, is a mere illusion. I 
know of no manufactory for such an adulteration in the 
United States, and for many good reasons there can be no 
such establishments in France. There is a great difference 
in the quality of different brands, but the Americans are too 
scientific in drinking to be long imposed upon by a false or 
inferior article. Here, one brand after another takes the 
field, becomes famous, has its career of popularity and super- 
excellence, and then gives place to some fresher and more 
vigorous rival. A delicious article, which seems to combine 
all the qualities of excellence, holds the field at present, and 
promises to remain pre-eminent for some time. I do not 
know its title here, as it is not the custom to serve the 

^~ 8* 



178 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

bottle with the label on, but I have been told that it is 
being imported into the United States under the name of 
Moet. 

I stated at the outset of this letter, when I had no notion 
of entering on a dissertation upon drinking, that I had seen 
Paris pretty thoroughly, and by way of affording a notion 
of what that comprises in chief, I will state that I have 
visited all the spots that are renowned in the old revolution, 
and all the places that were famous in the new. I have 
visited the Palace of the Tuilleries, from which Louis 
Philippe was expelled ; I have seen the Louvre and its 
museums, including its galleries of great paintings, extend- 
ing one-third of a mile in length. I have examined the 
abattoirs, the cemetery of Pere la Chaise, the great Cathe- 
dral of Notre Dame, where Napoleon was crowned, and in 
which Victor Hugo domiciled his hunchback ; the Hotel de 
Ville, memorable in all the great periods of France ; the 
Palace of Versailles, that miracle of magnificence built by 
Louis XVI. to the impoverishment of all Prance ; the 
manufacture of Gobelin tapestry ; the manufactory of China 
at Sevres ; the Pantheon ; the Garden of Plants, and its 
museums ; the Column of the Bastile ; the democratic fau- 
bourg St. Antoine ; La Morgue ; the yard of the Palais 
National, where the " Three Guardsmen" of Dumas met to 
take their oath ; the Market of the Temple, or Rag Fair, 
where the Rigolette of Eugene Sue obtained the second- 
hand furniture for her apartment ; the Place de Neuilly of 
Louis Philippe, in the wine vaults of which the revolution- 
ists of February were burned to death by the fire which 
had been kindled by their comrades over their heads ; the 
Palace of St. Cloud, and the famous Orongere where met 
the Council of Five Hundred ; the prisons and the churches. 

The latter are among the most interesting sights in Paris, 



THE CHURCHES OF PARIS. 179 

as well for their grandeur as for the associations connected 
with them, and among the most interesting of them all is 
the old church of St. Roch. This was founded by Louis 
XIV., but finished by the means of the financier Law, who 
was enabled to follow in the wake of the Grand Monarque in 
the way of expenditure, by the avails of his monstrous 
Mississippi scheme. It is famous as the scene of many 
great events, the two main of which may be mentioned ; 
its steps were filled with the mob w r hich received the dis- 
charges of Napoleon's cannon in the defense of the Direc- 
tory in the 18th Brumaire, and also for containing the throng 
who clustered there to witness Louis XVI. and Marie An- 
toinette led out for execution. 

The most interesting thing of all, however, that apper- 
tains to it now, is its church services and the ceremonies 
attendant on them. I passed the morning of my first Sun- 
day in Paris there, and it happening to be a fete day of 
some favorite saint, I saw^ the display to the very best ad- 
vantage. The style of worship was quite novel to my 
notions of church service, and as * I think it will be equally 
so to the notions of my readers, I will endeavor to convey 
a faint idea of it. 

The body of the interior or central aisle was enclosed by 
an iron railing, with a broad passage next the walls, which 
ran quite round the building. In this passage, and circling 
round the altar, formed and marched a grand procession. It 
commenced with a train of eighty veiled virgins (dressed in 
snowy white), bearing bouquets of white blossoms in their 
hands, and marching two by two, preceded by a pompously 
dressed major domo in a cocked hat and a huge silver-headed 
staff. Following this meek and angelic introduction, came 
a brass band, of forty-two pieces, of one of the regiments 
of the line, in full uniform. The performances of these were 



180 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

relieved at intervals of the march by two grand organs, at 
opposite ends of the church, and a choir of musicians and 
vocal choristers within the altar, helped occasionally by an 
invisible echo of fine voices in the rear. Next, in procession 
to the band, came a second huge major domo leading a troop 
of boys in sacred vestments, who bore lighted candles ; then 
came forty priests reading books and arrayed in dazzling 
vestments of the cloth of gold; then followed as many 
more boys, richly arrayed in lace and scarlet, bearing bas- 
kets of rose leaves, every now and then, at a signal from a 
priest in black who struck two books smartly together as 
the sign, scattering handfuls of the flowers in the air in ad- 
vance of the procession of the host, while the censer boys, 
with a practiced sleight of hand that would have been cred- 
itable on any stage, flung their incense pots in the air in the 
face of the priest who bore the sacred wafer. As the wafer 
passed everybody crouched reverently down, and sick per- 
sons were led forward, and mothers held their tender 
offspring forth to receive its consecrated shadow over their 
heads. The procession closed with some sixty nuns in black 
dresses and white bonnets, their forms devoutly bent, and 
their faces never looking up from their books. The cere- 
mony was very imposing, and accompanied by the grand 
music, and solemn state of the church, could not fail to 
make a strong impression upon any simple mind. The 
grand music, the stately order of the march, the meekness 
of the virgins, the gravity of the priests, the unction of the 
singers, and deep earnestness of the communicants who 
pressed forward to the Host, impressed even me with a sort 
of solemnity ; and if I could only have conquered the idea 
that all this parade had been rehearsed, I have no doubt I 
would have been as piously refreshed, as by the simple ser- 
vice which I have at home. On Good Friday, I am told, 



THE CEREMONY OF THE MASS 



181 



the ceremonies here are more imposing than at any other 
time, for then the performance is very much enlarged, the 
garden of Gethsemane is shown, and the choir includes some 
invisible male voice which at the end represents the voice 
of the Savior, and at the top of its note, in direful agony, 
utters his expiring wail of — Eloi ! eloi ! lama sabacthini." 



Paris, June, 1851. 

The Garden of Plants — Philosophy of Bears — French Charac- 
ter — Delicacy of the Fine Arts. 

'The Jardin des Plantes, of which I spoke in my last let- 
ter, is one of the great features of Paris, and corresponds 
to the British Museum and famous Zoological Gardens of 
London combined. It is deficient from the former only in 
its collection of antiquities and its natural library, (which 
here are consigned to other places) but it excels, in all other 
points, while its museums of comparative anatomy, of 
geology, natural history and botany, render it incomparable 
by any similar institution in the world. 

The Garden of Plants was established by Louis XIII., in 
the year 1635, and, with slight interruption, it has been con- 
tinually improved; its present condition being its maximum 
of excellence. During the Reign of Terror it was tempo- 
rarily neglected for want of supplies from the State, and it 
was threatened with destruction by the malicious mischief 
of the allied troops who conquered Paris in 1815, but it 
weathered both dangers, and since*the last period, its various 
departments have been munificently provided for by Govern- 
ment. It is now under the control of the Minister of the 
Interior, and has in addition to its groves and its museums, 



THE GARDEN OF PLANTS. 183 

an extensive amphitheatre that will hold twelve thousand 
persons, with laboratories and all the appurtenances of 
science for gratuitous academical lectures by the most dis- 
tinguished professors, on every branch of learning connected 
with natural history. The grounds of the Garden are very 
extensive, and are filled'with forest trees in every stage of 
development, with graveled walks between noble avenues 
of lime and chestnut ; frequent flower beds, whose gorgeous 
abundance fills the air with fragrance, and groves, the dense 
exuberance of which so shadows the cool earth, that they 
prove an agreeable retreat even in the meridian heat of the 
day. In one of these groves is a cedar of Lebanon, which 
was planted in 1734, and now measures ten and a half feet 
in diameter, six feet from the ground, and at the door of the 
amphitheatre are two Sicilian palms which were presented 
to Louis XIV. in 1654. 

Large buildings of glass contain all the varieties of plants 
that will not bear the extremes of weather, and through the 
summer months small parks or plots contain some of the 
most beautiful fruit and shade trees of the tropics, which 
reside in the greenhouses in the winter. The extent of the 
botanical department may be in some degree estimated by 
the fact that it contains upwards of twelve thousand species 
of living plants, 350,000 specimens of preserved ones, and 
more than 4,500 of woods, fruits and grains. 

In the right portion of the grounds is situated a menagerie, 
containing twenty-one huge dens for lions, tigers, jaguars, 
hyenas, and other wild animals of the forest ; and in an- 
other portion is a sort of hot house, through the panes of 
which the visitor may see the boa constrictor, the anaconda, 
the cobra de capello, the rattle snake, the copper head, or 
Jordan, and other noxious reptiles, coiling harmlessly in their 
coops of glass, and shrinking beneath blankets provided to 



184 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

protect them from the cold. Between these two depart- 
ments the grounds are profusely scattered with airy enclo- 
sures for birds, beast, fish and fowl, with every facility to 
enable most of them to breed. These comprise two 
elephants, a rhinoceros, an Asiatic buffalo, and a desert 
dromedary. Lamas, antelopes, 'goats, gazelles, Thibet 
sheep, a zebra, in all the pride of his stripes, — a pagoda 
full of monkeys, — eagles, ostriches, storks, penguins, cranes, 
swans, cassowarys, vultures, and a perfect wilderness of the 
different varieties of poultry, close the animal assortment, 
with the exception of four cool sunken paved courts with 
cells, where three r black bears and a large white one are 
confined. 

The menagerie department of the garden is of course a 
favorite resort of the Parisian visitors, and women and 
children are continually engaged in endeavoring to make 
friends with the elephants and bears, by throwing them bits 
of cake, or indulging in simple admiration at the fondness 
which the solemn looking lion exhibits for a dog who shares 
his cage, and whom he frequently licks most affectionately, 
as if he had persuaded himself he was one of his own cubs. 
The gambols of the goats and monkeys, however, furnish 
the most amusement to the crowd, and though the latter 
are unbreeched and the former are unmannered, the female 
portion of the audience do not hesitate to scrutinize and 
enjoy all their tricks of imitation and propensity. Indeed, 
a French woman does not seem to conceive that there can 
be anything more objectionable in the observance of the 
natural performances of this branch of animated nature, 
than in those of the tenants of the farm yard, or of the flies 
which buzz and bump together against the window, but looks 
at them and remarks upon them, as freely as she would 
upon the increase of her geraniums or canaries. I was quite 



THE GARDEN OF PLANTS. 185 

filled with admiration at beholding a knot of elegantly 
dressed ladies, who were accompanied by a gentleman, 
watch with the intensest interest the manoeuvres of a black 
and white goat, to obtain possession of a sleek and passive 
doe, who seemed to be equally favorable to either ; and 
most astonished, when at the end of the contest, they re- 
warded the perseverance and success of the black suitor, by 
a laugh of satisfaction and a clap of hands. 

The goats and monkeys, however, are not entitled to the 
credit of making all the fun, for the bears in the paved courts 
come in for a large share of praise in this way. I shall never 
lose my respect for the huge black Bruin who inhabited the 
central pit ; not so much for the dignity of his mien, or the 
graceful gravity with which he rose upon his hind quarters 
when he sought to open correspondence with the children who 
showed him pieces of cake, but because of the intelligence he 
exhibited one day after dinner in making his siesta so as to 
escape the heat of the afternoon. His repast had been made 
upon a shin of beef, which he had polished of its meat until 
there were but two or three strings of transparent gristle left 
in the grooves of the enormous knuckle at the end. After 
contemplating it reflectively for a few minutes when he had 
reduced it to this condition, he marched with it to a square 
stone trough about four feet long, which was countersunk in 
the floor of his den, and kept supplied by a thin stream of 
water that dribbled from a facet overhead. Monsieur Bruin, 
though nearly twice as long as the tank, leisurely set his hind 
quarters into it, then leaning backward shoved his legs over 
the border so that the upper edge of the basin should make 
a pillow for his neck and shoulders. When he had reclined 
in this elegant position, he spread himself on his back so that 
the cool stream should dribble full upon his stomach, and 
putting the knuckle bone fondly under his right arm com- 



186 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

menced to suck it, while he alternately scratched himself 
with his left paw or dandled it in the air, as if enjoying the 
drowsy comfort of a Chinese philosopher under the effects of 
opium ; or the serene pleasure of Billy Barlow while cooling 
his ankles under a pump on a close summer morning, after 
having slept over night in a fish car. It was in vain that the 
children and idle soldiers threw him bits of cake, or let 
down pieces of bread tied to a string within an inch of his 
nose. He was not to be moved by such devices ; he was 
indifferent to everything in France except that knuckle bone 
and that falling stream of water, and only evinced his con- 
sciousness of the efforts made to agitate him, by an occasional 
yawn and sigh, like that emitted by some short legged Su- 
pervisor, who has flung himself on a side sofa, after his third 
bottle of wine, to listen to. an alms-house report. I could 
scarcely refrain from calling him " Alderman," so perfectly 
lost was he in abandoned loaferism, but was controlled by 
the reflection that he might possibly understand me, and 
take offense at the expression. A white polar bear in the 
next compartment, whose trough was in the sun, evinced his 
sagacity- by holding his nose steadily to the cold iron plate 
that received the hasp of his dungeon door, and the next one 
to him, capered on his hind legs and caught compliments of 
cake with as much skill as an English cricket player ; yet 
there are philosophers who persist in believing that bears 
have no souls. 

The cabinet of comparative anatomy is contained in a 
large building in the west of the garden. It was arranged 
and prepared principally under the superintendence of the 
Baron Cuvier. Here the visitor will find not only skeletons 
of the human form, from the dwarf to the giant, and from all 
portions of the globe, but structures of the Mastodon as he 
shook the earth in some grander period of the creation ; of 



GARDEN OF PLANTS 



187 



the whale as he rejoiced, with the ocean in its jubilee of 
storms ; of the whole tribe of mammalia ; of birds ; with 
foetal specimens of every rudiment of life and animal crea- 
tion, so prepared and exhibited as to convey to the dullest 
mind the profoundest mysteries of Nature. The Gallery of 
Zoology is still more extensive than this department of dis- 
sections, and presents the progeny of Nature in their usual 
garb of life. No collection in Europe can compare with 
these matchless preservations. Every thing which ever 
throbbed with being, whether beast, bird, fish or insect, from 
the elephant to the ant, from the leviathan to the infinitesi- 
mal sea shell, or animalculse, here are arranged in order, as 
they lived, to give united testimony of the power of a Great 
Constructor, who sends forth the monsters of the land and 
sea to do his tasks; who breathes upon the desert, and 
straightway it is filled with life. 

The Mineralogical and Geological Gallery is the most 
extensive of all, and though its collection and preparation 
do not exhibit the wondrous science, patience and research 
exhibited by Buffon, Cuvier, and their great co-laborers in 
the Botanical, Comparative Anatomy and Zoological depart- 
ments, it is perhaps the most valuable from its profuse col- 
lection of the precious gems and richer ores. Attached to 
these museums is a library of works on Natural History 
for the use of the Professors and the public, on proper ap- 
plication, which consists of 30,000 volumes and 15,000 
pamphlets. 

I have now enumerated the principal features of the cele- 
brated Jardin des Plantes, and I think those who have fol- 
lowed the enumeration will not be inclined to question the 
appropriateness of the remark in which I designated it as 
one of the great features of Paris. Its museums and lecture 
rooms are open on alternate days, and its groves and 



188 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

menagerie at all times for the free admission of the public. 
Here the gay Parisians resort during the day to frolic or 
philosophize, or enjoy luxurious retreats from the fervid 
heats of noon. It divides the latter attraction, however, 
with the cool cloisters of the churches, which are open in 
all parts of Paris from daybreak until evening, and with 
the bosky shades of the woods of Boulogne, the grounds of 
the Tuilleries, and the flowery groves of the enchanted gar- 
dens of the Palace Luxembourg. I have used this expres- 
sion in relation to the latter, because no sober term of lan- 
guage will comprehend their beauties, and in default of a 
fancy equal to the task, I refer the reader to the rapturous 
terms in which Claude Melnotte speaks of the grounds of 
his illusory palace, as the only thing which can afford an 
adequate idea of them. What gives all the Paris gardens, 
however, a charm beyond the ideal region which Bulwer's 
imagination has created, is that they are filled not only with 
the most exquisite marbles and playing fountains, but they 
are adorned with living beauty moving about in cheerful 
droves, and give evidence that they are the property of the 
People, in the quiet decorous ease with which they are en- 
joyed at the close of day, equally by the grave artisan in 
his blouse, and the dandy in his perfumed attire. These 
gardens are further worthy of attention, from the fact that 
Louis Blanc held his great socialist meetings of workmen 
there in the spring of 1848, and the Palace itself is notable 
as having been converted into a prison in 1789. It was next 
used for the sittings of the Directory in 1795 ; next for the 
sittings of the Consuls when Bonaparte first rose to power ; 
and shortly after, for the sessions of the Imperial Senate. 
It is now devoted to a gallery of paintings, consisting of the 
masterpieces of living French artists, which pieces are 
transferred to the great gallery of the Louvre, as their 



THE GARDEN OF PLANTS. 



1S9 



painters die, while the gardens are enlivened, on stated 
evenings, by a military band of some sixty or seventy 
pieces, who play but for the People. It is delightful to see 
the order and decorum which are observed by the throngs 
who enjoy these retreats. Though delicious flowers bloom 
handy to the touch, at every step, no one is guilty of the 
barbarism of plucking a leaf or blossom, and the swans and 
the gold fish in its marble basins, do not require an iron 
barrier, as with us, to fence them in from malicious inter- 
ference. Each person seems to take a common interest in 
preserving all works of art and taste inviolate, and not a 
shrub or a leaf is in any more peril of desecration by the 
thousands who walk among them, than are the utensils in 
danger that make the altar service of a church. With us 
we know how different is the case ; but the injurious con- 
trast proceeds, perhaps, rather from the fact that our People 
are not drilled into decency on this subject, by any orga- 
nized system of public amusement, than from natural 
viciousness or barbarism. 

The Parisians, however, have a peculiar reason for being 
nice in this respect. Paris is the show-shop of Europe ; the 
whole continent has been plundered to add to its fineries ; 
all France has been taxed and burdened from time imme- 
morial to increase and maintain its splendors, and annual 
draughts of magnitude upon the common treasury keep it 
festive and shining. It opens its doors for the invitation of 
strangers ; its commodity is pleasure, and it manufactures 
gaieties as Manchester- produces her fabrics and Birmingham 
her wares. For the privilege of living in it, and fishing in 
its glittering tide, the citizen consents to a special octroi 
duty of nearly a hundred per cent, on all he eats and drinks, 
and therefore he is justly careful of the baits which brings 
the harvest to his net. But apart from this motive, he has 



190 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

« 

an acute sense of the beautiful, and his enjoyments abroad 
being all shared by women and children, he is necessarily 
refined and decorous in all his public acts. If he has no 
home, nor domestic comforts, as the English say, he has the 
advantage of being eminently well mannered when abroad, 
and this, to the appreciations of a stranger, is much the pre- 
ferable habit of the two. He enjoys himself without inter- 
fering with the pleasure of others ; he watches nobody, and 
never seems to dream that anybody is exercising a surveil- 
lance over him. Whatever will yield him joy within this 
limit, he embraces without fastidiousness or affectation ; he 
is consequently frank, cheerful, devoid of prejudice, and 
ready to forgive. His greatest defect consists in his under- 
estimate of the character and destiny of women ; but this 
grows out of causes for which he is not altogether responsi- 
ble, and as the women readily consent to it, the appreciation 
is not amenable to any severe reprehension as against him. 
He is the creature of impulse, and when we find him always 
brave, always thirsting after freedom, despite his periods of 
inertness, and always capable of exhibiting a sentiment of 
patriotism of the loftiest and most devoted character, we 
can forgive him many foibles that we would not excuse in 
others. 

The Galleries and Museums of the Palace of the Louvre 
are another great feature of Paris, and are, perhaps, of the 
most attraction to the stranger who is in search of what is 
valuable and antique in the fine arts. In this ancient palace 
is to be found the celebrated gallery said to be thirteen 
hundred feet in length, filled with what are esteemed the 
great pictures of the deceased French, Flemish, German, 
and Italian masters. Its other departments are devoted to 
museums of sculpture, ethnology, and classical antiquities. 
The museum of ancient statuary is very extensive, and 



GALLERIES OF THE LOUVRE. 191 

contains some magnificent marbles, among which are many- 
productions of a most extraordinary character. It will well 
repay the examination of two or three hours, but ladies 
who wish to visit it, must leave all notions of fastidiousness 
at the threshold. This effort of philosophy, after one has 
been in Paris about a week, is not so difficult as it would 
seem. The shop windows and the nudities of the public 
pleasure grounds clip one by one the angles of your reserve, 
and you soon experience an indifference, which is not 
unlikely to be followed by a counter curiosity. I saw some 
ladies, who at the outset, had been seriously shocked at the 
undraped figures in the gardens of the Tuilleries, enjoying 
this second stage of experience, with unwinking eyes and a 
very lively relish. The same induration of the sentiments 
is requisite for the examination of the pictures, many of 
which are devoted to the debaucheries of a profligate 
mythology, to naked allegories, or to those episodes of the 
scriptures against which prudent Sunday-school teachers 
carefully turn down the leaf. Nevertheless, we are contin- 
ually imposed upon with the story that fine arts have a 
refining influence, and that they elevate the taste of a nation. 
I pray Heaven, that we advance no further in them. 

I am unable to conceive how the mind is to be enriched 
or the soul improved by the mere outlines on canvas or in 
stone, of forms that abound around us in much greater per- 
fection and more decently dressed ; but I can easily conceive 
how such lascivious disclosures may enervate and debase it. 
It is an ingenious thing to be able to take a little brush and 
colors, and counterfeit with tolerable nearness, a bird, a 
beast, or human form, and it is not undeserving of credit 
for a man to be able to throw a treble somerset, but such 
pursuits are entirely inadequate to the great purpose of life, 
and in none of them have their practicers a right to offend 



192 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the reigning laws of decency. The corrupted tastes of the 
old nations, whose crises of decline have always been marked 
at the point when the fine arts among them had reached 
their highest pitch, are no tastes for us, and I trust, that in 
this regard, we may never reach their perfection, or encour- 
age the introduction of their notions of what is beautiful in 
statuary and in painting. 

No morbid fastidiousness dictates these views on my 
part, but they spring from a feeling of contempt for such a 
criterion of a nation's greatness, and from a conviction also, 
that this notion, in relation to these works of taste, has been 
carefully inculcated for centuries, in order to swell the pomp 
of those who could afford to subsidize genius, and make an 
ostentation of what they had extorted from its purchased 
life-time. These galleries have passed from hand to hand, 
increasing in fictitious value all the while ; and all the while, 
the " Old Masters" who contributed the stock are propor- 
tionately enhanced, and ranked beyond the masters of the 
present day, who really excel them. Not one of them, of 
any name or age, equals, to my appreciations, the power 
and taste of Horace Vernet, who still lives and paints ; and 
the very reason why he is made to take the second rank is, 
because he still lives and paints, and may be employed to 
multiply his works. It is time for this delusion to die out, 
or to be put out, and for the whole subject to be properly 
estimated. The decline of the fine arts, which would be a 
very disastrous blow to opulence and pomp in Europe, 
would not lay a hair in our path to greatness, and we have 
as little cause to regret, that we do not equal Europe in this 
department of competition, as that we have not excelled her 
at the Great Exhibition in the manufacture of mosaics and 
false gems, or that we did not share the disasters of her 
tulip mania. 



Paris, July, 1851. 

Tapestry and China — Notre Dame and Miracles — A Doubt- 
ful Saint. 

In speaking of the fine arts at the conclusion of my last 
letter, 1 did not intend to convey the idea that I considered 
them utterly worthless, but rather to condemn the extrava- 
gant estimation which is placed upon the works of the old 
masters in Europe, and to lend what timely aid I could to 
prevent the same pernicious misappreciation from being 
infused into the more wholesome atmosphere of the United 
States. There is the greater need of this just now, because 
our people, feeling their wealth, begin to swarm through all 
the avenues of Europe, and unless they view these baubles 
of art in their proper light, we shall find them flowing across 
the Atlantic, until the bulk of them are transferred to our rich 
empire, and in their stead a large portion of our gold will 
pour this way, to invigorate for a time the decaying aris- 
tocracy who own them. I wish to see the bubble of their 
false estimation break here, and when the revolution of taste 
has made wrecks of fortunes which have always been a curse, 
the fragments of fine arts may be gathered, if we want them, 
at exactly what they are worth. 

It will be thought by many, that a man who can hold 



194 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

such language as this, has no taste for these efforts of the 
chisel and pencil, which have won the admiration of mankind 
for centuries ; but such an opinion would be erroneous, if 
applied to me. I have known but few persons who expe- 
rience the same delight in viewing works of merit, in mar- 
ble or in colors, as myself, and I have been repeatedly 
complimented by critics, wise in beauty, at my correctness 
of appreciation in these matters, and the unfailing accuracy 
with which I have discriminated on the shades of merit be- 
tween this masterpiece and that. Nevertheless, all that 
amounts to nothing, for 1 have taken pains to earn a taste 
on this subject;* to what benefit each reader may decide, 
when I state that, notwithstanding my pains, I have derived 
more substantial pleasure in the victory of American science 
through our yacht at Cowes, than was afforded me by all 
the sculpture and paintings 1 had ever seen. Our country 
is unquestionably very far behind Europe in what is called 
les beaux arts, but then it is very for ahead of her in steam- 
ships, in agriculture, and in science ; and it is because that 
we have not found time to make great paintings, and patch 
together fine mosaics for the indulgence of the rich, that 
we are so far ahead in all that is essentially great. The 

* Sir Joshua Keynolds, the great English painter, says in his memoirs, 
that when he first beheld the works of the great masters in Rome, he was 
overcome with shame, and with doubt of his own taste, because he could 
not appreciate them. He looked at them again and again with the same 
mortifying want of appreciation. " Finally," he says, "a new perception 
began to dawn upon me, and I then perceived the beauties of those true 
works of art, which many ignorant and imbecile observers pretend to 
enjoy at first sight." I am not certain that Sir Joshua had not only suc- 
ceeded in humbugging himself. The same amount of devotion might 
have made him regard the brutal head and bow legs of a bull terrier as a 
model of elegance, or look with rapture upon a swallow-tailed coat. 
Taste is conventional, and there is nothing so susceptible to training as 
the eye. 



PARIS. 195 

choice genius of our land devotes itself to the loftiest pur- 
suits, and having all the avenues of ambition open before it, 
rejects those inferior pursuits, which less fortunate talent in 
Europe is obliged to adopt to win a limited and conventional 
fame. Better than all, we are not put to sleep by the dull 
notion which seems to prevail in Europe, that the world 
is finished ; but we are restless with endeavor to improve it 
at every point; and I hope that this ardor will not ebb, and 
a mere desire to ornament it take its place, until machinery 
shall enable us to equal the fish in his own element, or until 
that poorly finished piece of work — Man — who is now so 
vain of his small attributes, shall make some decent claim 
to perfection or to power, by earning an equality with a 
goose in the conquest of the air. 

The galleries of the Louvre, which I described at the con- 
clusion of my last letter, were greatly enriched by Napoleon, 
who collected from the churches and museums of the coun- 
tries he visited in conquest, their most precious works of 
art, and transferred them to Paris, with the double view of 
adding to the attractions of this grand capital, and of estab- 
lishing memorials of his fame, which could not die. It was 
an idea adapted to the notions of the people with whom he 
played, but it was not altogether successful in its end. 
When the allied armies took possession of Paris, after the 
battle of Waterloo, each nation which was represented there 
resumed the works of which it had been despoiled. Enough 
was left, however, to accredit the Louvre as the greatest 
gallery of Europe, and it is by no means likely that its Ra- 
phaels, Guidos, Murrillos, Titians, Rubens, Vandykes, and 
Da Vincis, will ever again be reduced in number by any for- 
eign spoilers. The term of their existence will come from 
other hands. 

Akin to the Louvre, as government exhibitions, though 



196 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

different in style, are the manufactories of Gobelin tapestry 
and Sevres china. The first of these is a most extraordinary 
fabric, and the establishment in which it is produced em- 
ploys one hundred and twenty workmen. It is a woolen 
woof, worked into various colors, in imitation of the great 
paintings, and so exactly is the counterfeit performed by 
these worsted tints, that at the distance of five feet the eye 
can scarcely distinguish that the picture is not painted in 
oil. The paintings which are thus copied are only of the 
choicest character and grandest size, and I do not exaggerate 
when I state, that the woolen counterfeits are sometimes an 
improvement on the originals. They require years for their 
performance ; but there is no estimation to be put upon 
their value, for they are never put in the market, being used 
only to decorate the various palaces of the State. Carpets 
are also manufactured here of the Persian style, but they 
far exceed the Persian in their finish, and they, too, are de- 
voted to the ornament of the governmental rooms. The 
establishment was founded by Louis XIV., that wanton in 
expense, and has been kept up by all succeeding administra- 
tions, with the exception of the tolerably lucid interval of 
the old French Revolution. The tapestry takes its name 
from Jean Gobelin, through whom the art was derived, and 
it is justly celebrated as being unapproached by any similar 
fabric in the world. We have nothing to compare with it, 
and need not hope to have in a long period of time, for had 
we begun its manufacture at the commencement of the pres- 
ent century, we might by this time have had some dozen 
or two very decent pictures finished. We console ourselves, 
however, by the fact that we have, in the meantime, not 
been altogether idle in other and better things. 

The government manufactory of ornamental china is at 
Sevres, a little town about five miles from Paris, where it 



TAPESTRY AND CHINA. 197 

was originally established by Louis XV. at the request of 
his mistress, Madame Pompadour. It contains a museum of 
specimens of pottery of all nations and ages, down to the pre- 
sent time, but its own productions far exceed them all. By 
the aid of a government order I was enabled to inspect the 
manufacture in all its branches, from the shaping of the white 
porcelain into cups and vases, to its reception of the brilliant 
colors which are finally baked in it. These colors are not 
transferred upon the porcelain from pattern pictures, as is 
commonly supposed, but are painted upon it with the same 
patience as if it were the copper or canvas of an original work. 
For this task the first artists in painting are required, and it 
is therefore not unusual to see a tea-cup bear a medallion 
that is worth from twenty to fifty dollars, or a plate or pic- 
ture worth double that sum. I saw one picture on a porce- 
lain slab, some thirty inches by twenty -four, that was worth 
15,000 francs, and a copy, on a centre table, of Raphael's 
" School of Athens," that was marked at 35,000 francs. To 
get this picture correct, the artist who painted it upon the 
ware, made three journeys to Rome to consult the original. 
The works in this establishment are for sale, but the prices 
charged are purposely set very high, so as not to interfere 
with private enterprise in the same business. The ostensible 
purpose of the establishment is to afford models of instruc- 
tion to private manufacturers, but whether that justifies its 
maintenance, it is not difficult to decide. As there is no 
early probability that w r e shall have a Louis XV. and a Ma- 
dame Pompadour, it is likely that we shall for a long time 
remain behind the French in this branch of the fine arts. 

Among the public sights of Paris, the churches are by no 
means to be overlooked, and most noteworthy of all is the 
great cathedral of Notre Dame. This is cotemporary in its 
foundation with Westminster Abbey, though it is said that 



198 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

a Christian church, dedicated to St. Stephen, occupied its 
site as early as 365, and that the present edifice stands upon 
the antique foundations. It is situated in the very centre of 
the Isle de la Cite, and its venerable tower commands a view 
of the entire of old Paris, with the Seine winding around its 
island boundaries. In its exterior it is cruciform, built in the 
pure pointed Gothic style, with flying buttresses, like those 
of Westminster Abbey, but though not as richly fretted as 
the buttresses of the latter, they are quite as magnificently 
bold, and as strikingly peculiar. It is not my purpose to 
describe it in detail, (and there is the less need, as Victor 
Hugo has exhausted all the attractions and graces of com- 
position on the subject in his great romance) but rather to 
allude to it as the theatre of great events, and as an actual 
landmark of times which have a tendency to slip through 
the mind as an illusion. It was in this church that many of 
the kings of France were crowned. Here, too, the Atheism 
of Paris enthroned itself in 1792, with sacrilegious uproar, 
and performed the open debaucheries of the Goddess of 
Reason upon the very steps of its altar ; and here, when that 
obscene revel was exhausted, came the martial step of the 
Man of Destiny, to receive from the hands of the Pope 
himself, the diadem of Empire. 

The church has suffered but few injuries during its long 
history, and those it has endured took place mostly during 
the revolutionary period I have alluded to. A row of 
twenty-eight statues of the kings of Judah, but supposed to 
be pictures of the kings of France, from the fact that they 
were known by the name of the Galerie dcs Hois, fell vic- 
tims to democratic indignation in 1793, and one of the bells, 
which had been baptized in presence of Louis XIV. and his 
queen Therese, was melted in the same period to make 
noise in a more warlike fashion on the field of battle. Four 



NOTRE DAME. 199 

archbishops were disturbed from their rest in the crypt, in 
order that the lead of their coffins might be constructed into 
bullets, while two smaller sarcophagi which severally held 
the anointed entrails of Louis the XIII. and XIV. shared the 
same fate. The republicans of that period seem to have 
been entirely devoid of veneration, and it appears rather for- 
tunate for them that the divine powers which the good old 
writers tell us preside over the rights of kings, had not 
thought it worth their while to appear and protect their 
trusts. It probably was equally fortunate for the shameless 
votaries of the Goddess of Reason, that " Our Lady," in 
whose charge the sacred edifice had been deposited for eight 
hundred years, had not expelled the atheists from her tem- 
ple, or burnt them upon its insulted floor with a consuming 
fire. But such miraculous vindications have not been com- 
mon since newspapers were established, and all miracles are 
now performed privately to the priests, whose duty it is to 
report them to the faithful, in order to refresh their souls and 
keep them steadfast. This is a prudential revolution against 
the irreligious character of the age, and prevents such sacred 
wonders from being scoffed at and scandalized, by the irre- 
verent inquiries that are now so common. The system has 
the advantage, moreover, of not making these manifestations 
direct to the eyes of multitudes of the ignorant, (who would 
never be certain that their organs were not deceived,) but 
reveals them to holy fathers, who devote their lives to the 
accurate understanding of such matters, and who, whenever 
these wonders occur, faithfully translate them to us. 

No one, certainly, can seriously dispute that this is the 
safer way for the interests of the church, and that it is vigi- 
lantly pursued to her benefit by her servants in this part of 
the world, I can attest, on the strength of a grand thanks- 
giving which I saw in a town in Italy, for a miracle of rain, 



200 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

after the priests and people had been praying for it night and 
morning for only three weeks. It is true that the rain had 
been due a month before these public prayers began ; but 
then the priests had discovered by some means that the 
drouth was to continue two months more, unless set aside by 
general supplication. Upon understanding from them this 
deplorable state of things, the people made brisk contribu- 
tions for masses, and the good priests went to work with 
alacrity. The result was, that the Patron Saint of the place 
was induced by the friars to make intercession in the right 
quarter, and so grateful were the people for his good services, 
that they filled his shrine w r ith choicest gifts, and his reputa- 
tion for influence in Heaven was immensely added to, there- 
after. 

The interior of the church of Notre Dame, in addition to 
its fine sculptured bas reliefs, is ornamented by many large 
paintings in rich little alcoves, or chapels, that are devoted 
to various saints. These are by the great masters, and 
mostly describe scriptural subjects, or the traditional mar- 
tyrdom of the saints to which they are devoted, and repre- 
sent either the agonies of the cross, or some equally refresh- 
ing spectacle of mortal horror. Deep wounds, streams of 
blood, exhausted frames, eyes starting from their sockets 
under the agonies of the wheel, or ghastly and stiffened 
corpses wet with the sweat of death, are the subjects which 
call forth the highest efforts of European artists, and which 
mostly accord with church policy and monkish tastes. 
Every religious edifice is stuffed with them ; they abound in 
all public and private galleries, and were it true that great 
paintings produce that effect upon the imagination which 
fashionable critics pretend, no person could travel through 
the churches and galleries of Europe without the absolute 
destruction of his nerves, and if very delicately strung, per- 



NOTRE DAME. 201 

haps of his brain. But the fact is, pictures are but canvas 
and color ; we are neither ravished nor frozen by them ; and 
while we may coolly admire the art with which the traces 
of a whip are put upon the suffering Savior's back, we can- 
not help feeling regret, if not disgust, that the genius which 
performed it had been warped to such a task. 

The most interesting sight which the Church of Notre 
Dame affords to a stranger, is the gold and silver sacrament 
utensils, sparkling with precious stones, and the rich corona- 
tion robes in which Napoleon was crowned. In viewing 
these treasures, you will be struck with the light manner in 
which they are secured, and involuntarily contrast the trust 
which is placed in the observer, with the suspicious security 
which guards the regalia of England. The latter are placed 
in a stone tower and fenced around with a powerful double 
iron cage ; while a sentry walks continually up and down 
before the door ; but the French jewels are kept in an apart- 
ment to which access is given by a rusty old sexton with an 
ordinary key, while the treasures themselves are merely 
shut in a common wooden closet, the only fastening to which 
is a little lock about fit to do service on a hair trunk. 
While my friend and I were engaged in looking at the gems, 
the custodian was summoned to let in some other visitors, 
and excusing himself for a few moments, he went off, leaving 
the riches open to our hands. One of the jewels was the 
hestensoire which had been used in the imperial coronation, 
and contained a circlet of large diamonds valued at $300^000, 
and another was a crucifix filled with diamonds, rubies, 
sapphires and emeralds of the finest tints and water. 

This exhibition of confidence is not unusual among the- 
French. They are essentially an honest people, and do not 
suspect dishonesty in others. The fewest of their crimes are 
larcenies, and there are less thieves in the nation, pro-rata, 



9< 



202 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

than in any country upon earth. Their noble disdain of the 
glittering wrecks of royalty, when they sacked the palaces 
during their revolutions, and their prompt punishment of 
every wretch who sought to appropriate a bauble from the 
ruins, is a striking evidence of their natural loftiness of sen- 
timent and capacity for self-denial, in the name of honor. 
The same principle of confidence is exhibited in all their 
actions. In making purchases you are seldom overcharged, 
and your ignorance of their customs and their prices is rather 
a protection than a danger. Finally, when your bargain is 
made, your goods are sent home to you without a demand 
for payment, and it frequently happens that you do not 
receive the bill for them in two or three days after they 
have been in your possession. In London and New York the 
case with travelers is very different, and not without reason. 

Besides Notre Dame, there are several churches in Paris 
of great size and grandeur, but the one that will present the 
most interest to the reader at present, is the Church of St. 
Vincent de Paule. This Saint is a saint of great renown, 
and he has an edifice allotted to him that would do honor 
even to the premier apostle who keeps the keys of heaven. 
So high is his reputation, that he has a little chapel allotted 
to him in Notre Dame, and sacred niches in several other 
churches. And no lying-in-woman or mother solicitous of 
the welfare of an ailing child, forgets the great patron of 
infancy in her nightly prayers. 

Notwithstanding all this popularity of St. Vincent de 
Paule, however, a question has recently arisen in the churches 
as to his right of saintship, and though he has been in the 
odor of sanctity for over two hundred years, it is seriously 
proposed that his claim to a coronet in Heaven be re-inves- 
tigated by the church, and a vote taken whether or no he 
shall not be formally deposed. 



A DOUBTFUL SAINT. 203 

This is a terrible state of things for a saint of hitherto 
good character, and the greatest excitement exists not only 
among churchmen, but among the whole Catholic -popula- 
tion of Paris, to know how it will end. What interest the 
saint takes in it himself, or what sensation it creates among 
his shining compeers above the Milky Way, it of course is 
not within my reach to say. 

The cause of the agitation appears to be some strange 
revelations of his saintship's doctrinal opinions, not in hea- 
ven, but while here on earth, which he left behind him in a 
sealed document, not to be broken until a century after his 
death, and then to be opened and read without previous 
perusal in presence of the chapter of Paris. The priests 
who held the charge of the precious document at the time 
the hundred years was up, fearing, however, that the reve- 
lation might affect their interests, slily separated the wax, 
and there to their astonishment discovered a complete repu- 
diation of all the principles he had professed when living, 
and a proclamation of a philosophy as bold as any that was 
taken years after his death by the encyclopaediests, whose 
daring theories overturned all religious faith in the climax 
of the succeeding revolution. The document was of course 
suppressed, but from time to time strange rumors in rela- 
tion to its contents and purport broke upon the. tranquil 
surface of the church, and finally, to stifle agitation, it was 
given out that it had been lost. This report imposed upon 
most people, and among others it deceived Voltaire, who 
after many keen speculations on the subject, dismissed it 
with a regret that it had been lost. It appears, however, 
that it had neither been lost nor destroyed, but only sup- 
pressed or mislaid, and fortunately for the vindication of 
religion or the saint, a celebrated antiquarian, a few weeks 
ago, in pursuing certain researches at Dax, stumbled upon 



204 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the veritable document hinted at so often, in memoirs of the 
times when the saint in question nourished. 

The announcement of this discovery has struck conster- 
nation among the true children of the Church, who, without 
regard to its contents, protest against its publication as cal- 
culated to be injurious to religion, and for protection in 
these views they have appealed to the Archbishop of Paris 
to assist in its suppression. Others again contend that the 
paper should be examined and the subject set at rest, being 
satisfied that religion can stand on its own bottom, be there 
a saint more or less upon its rolls. In the meantime, the 
philosophical enthusiast who discovered the document has 
sent it to press, inexorable to appeals, staunch against fear, 
and incorruptible to temptation. He values success in his 
researches above the mere existence or dethronement of a 
saint in heaven, and the Archbishop of Paris so well under- 
stands this spirit, that he has folded his arms in the matter, 
contenting himself in the remark that " With an atheist 
there might be some hope of mercy ; but with an antiquary 
there can be none at all." 

What this will end in it is impossible to tell. In the lan- 
guage of a newspaper which treats the subject with much 
force, " the forthcoming revelations may be destined to hit 
the very keystone of the Christian Church." One thing, 
however, we may decide on out of hand ; that the memo- 
rable Vincent de Paule, whose personal life was unquestion- 
ably a most exemplary one, gave the world credit for 
revolution of opinion more than a century too early. 



Paris, July, 1851. 

Philosophy of French Revolutions — The French Soldiers- 
Louis Napoleon, 

To a person who is fond of military display, Paris is of 
all places the most eligible in the world. You not only 
have grand military reviews here of thousands of men 
almost every week, but every morning you are aroused by 
the rattle of the drum, or clangor of the trumpet, of divisions 
moving past your door; while morning, noon and night, and 
in all places, you continually meet national guards in full 
costume, swaggering chasseurs in their burnished helmets, 
and soldiers of the line, swarming the gardens, forming the 
most prominent objects of attention (excepting always the 
grisettes) on every promenade. 

There are in Paris at all times — at any rate there have 
been during the present administration, some forty thousand 
troops, while in its vicinity and within some two or three 
hours summons, are distributed in different stations some 
sixty thousand more. Should an exigency arise therefore, 
in which the government might desire to exercise some sud- 
den force upon this city, an hundred thousand men could be 
brought to bear upon it in a very brief space of time. The 
citizens of Paris, and chiefly those in the democratic quarters 



206 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of the city understand all this, but nevertheless they do not 
esteem the power as by any means irresistible, for in addi- 
tion to their reliance on their own indomitable courage, 
they never lose sight of the fact that the soldiers are French- 
men, and are liable to be governed by a patriotism as sus- 
ceptible and as impulsive as their own. That is one of the 
reasons why there is such a facility for revolutions in Paris. 
If the soldier, who is subsidized at the magnificent price of a 
sous a day for the service of the State, could only be held 
faithful to his employ and prevented from reasoning on his 
duty, France might be kept as quiet as the sternest despot 
would require, and the French obtain the compliment of 
English and other monarchial writers, of being a steadfast 
and loyal people. As it is, however, the conscript does not 
think the penny purchases his soul ; he feels that he has not 
resigned all his rights of manhood and country in the cere- 
mony of enlistment, and esteems patriotism as of greater 
importance even than discipline. The English or German 
soldier is on the contrary a mere machine ; he indulges in no 
notions of reserved rights beyond his beef and beer ; in re- 
turn he gives blind obedience, and consequently is just the 
instrument for despotic service. He fights stubbornly, but 
never with enthusiasm, and can never be expected to frater- 
nize with the suffering and agitated masses of his own coun- 
trymen so long as his own belly is well filled. 

The Frenchman on the contrary, is highly susceptible and 
sympathetic, and when directed against his fellow-citizens in 
a cause which he has taken pains to weigh in their favor, is 
much more likely to leave his ranks and clasp them in his 
arms, than to direct his musket against their breasts. He 
does not stop to reason upon the risks of desertion, or breach 
of discipline. He obeys an instinct which is above human 
law r s, and thus contributes to make the revolutions in which 



PHILOSOPHY OF FRENCH REVOLUTIONS. 207 



he takes a part, look like decrees of heaven. It is these great 
and impulsive movements of the French nation which has en- 
couraged certain writers to decry them as fickle, and which has 
persuaded idle minds and servile thinkers among us, to take 
up the sneer, as if the echo were an axiom beyond dispute. 
No proposition, however, can be more erroneous. Like 
most common sayings its very plausibility is a proof of its 
falsehood, and it is carried through only by a pretentious 
popularity instead of reason. The French are essentially a 
steadfast people. They are steadfast for Freedom and fickle 
only to oppression. 

They were once loyal in the sense which an English or an 
Austrian writer would approve. For nearly eighteen cen- 
turies they bore the yoke of despotism with the most exem- 
plary loyalty. They suffered eleven-twelfths of their entire 
earnings to be taken from them for the joint use of the lords 
of the manor, the clergy and the crown. They consented to 
wear yokes upon their necks and bear the name of " villien" 
as an opprobrium of poverty. Before the peasant could 
press to his bosom the maid who was to be the partner of 
his life, he was forced to yield her to the embrace of his 
local noble under the s'eignorial rights guaranteed to those 
moral patrons of the manor, by an equally patriarchal and 
moral Church and Crown. All this he bore till 1790 with- 
out resistance, while revolutions of one sort and another 
were bubbling up in many other portions of the globe. 
Then, however, his loyalty of the old fashion broke up ; he 
to too tried his hand at revolution ; took revenge upon some 
thousands of those who had oppressed him, and has been 
steady to his aim ever since. 

Being vivacious, he is of course subject to depression, and 
to moods of apparent indifference, and advantage has been 
taken of him at times while in this torpid state, by active 



208 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

diplomatists of the ancient school; but as soon as they tres- 
passed beyond a prudent villany and made the yoke gall 
again, he shook it off and took a few rapid steps more 
towards his object. A new relapse is followed by new en- 
croachments and a fresh rebellion ; and so it will go, until 
he becomes wise in what he really wants, and is enabled to 
establish an actual democracy upon a rational foundation. 

The great difficulty with him at present is not that he is 
too fond of change, but that he does not know how to 
accomplish what he steadily desires. A Frenchman's im- 
pression of government is, that it is a sort of special steward 
who should take care of all his wants ; provide work for 
him ; pay him good wages ; insure abundance in the crops ; 
supply him with amusements ; regulate the price of bread ; 
defend him from evil ; in short act in all things as a family 
guardian who has charge of a ward incapable of taking care 
of himself. Out of this notion of dependence upon govern- 
ment, it is not digicult for skillful politicians to win him back, 
temporarily, into undue submission (or endurance, to use a 
better term,) and shame him as a bad example in the eyes 
of the world, and as one incapable of freedom or of quiet. 
By-and-by, however, he will get rid of this notion ; he will 
perceive that dependence upon government is one of those 
vicious predilections which has been instituted into his very 
blood by the art of monarchs for centuries, and like the 
republicans of our country, he will command the govern- 
ment to shut up its public show-shops, and forbear to inter- 
fere in any way with private effort. When he arrives at 
this point, and discards his notions of public workshops, for 
the idea that the true object of government is not to govern 
at all, he will establish a system which probably will excel 
our own, and enable him to live perhaps an example of con- 
tentment to the world. He has his eye upon it ; through 



FRENCH SOLDIERS. 



209 



his ignorance of the means to reach his aim he may be baffled 
for some time, and as at present cut a very scurvy figure, 
but reach it he will, and when he breathes at the conclusion 
of his task, the corrupt despotisms of Europe will be crum- 
bled at his feet. Those who say that the French People 
are indifferent to forms of government, and make revolu- 
tions only for the love of excitement and of change, know 
nothing of their character. The slightest examination of the 
causes of their revolts for the last sixty years, utterly re- 
futes the slander, while the frequent practice of the fraterni- 
zation of the stern soldiers with the People, proves that 
their changes spring from a profound sentiment, instead of 
a mere caprice. Soldiers do not take the risk of being tried 
at a drum-head court-martial and shot for the indulgence 
of a fancy. 

The first thing which is observable in the appearance of 
a body of French soldiers is the smallness of their size. 
They seem like a lot of boys to a stranger, and as you look 
at them, you can scarcely realize the fact that it was by such 
troops Napoleon overran and subjugated the continent. The 
average height of the troops of the line seems to be about 
five feet four or five inches, and the saucy little caps they 
wear, are not calculated to amend that defect to the eye. 
Smallness of size in a soldier is, however, no defect in ser- 
vice. For long marches, for the endurance of privation, 
and for all field operations (with a single exception) they 
are better than large-sized men. They perform their evolu- 
tions with more alacrity, and in this way are sometimes 
enabled to almost double their effectiveness. Napoleon 
availed himself of these qualities most remarkably in the 
forced marches which he trained them to perform ; and by 
conquering time and throwing large masses upon a certain 
point with speed and precision, conquered his enemies. 



210 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

Even upon the field, when one of his intended manoeuvres 
would be discovered by his opponents, and orders be issued 
by them to counteract it on the ordinary calculations of 
time, the rapidity of the French soldier would anticipate 
prevention, and take the battle while they were counting 
the second hands of their watches according to the settled 
rules of tactics. It was so at Rivoli, at Marengo, and at 
Austerlitz. "What do you think of this young French 
General ?" said Napoleon to Old Beaulieu, whom he had 
just taken prisoner, and who did not know his person. u His 
tactics are all false," said the old martinet, shaking his head. 
" One day he is here, another day there ; and again com- 
mitting the gravest errors in some new quarter. Such an 
invasion of the rules of war is not to be tolerated." 

The particular in which the French soldier is inferior to 
the English in field operations is, in charging with the bayo- 
net. This does not proceed, however, from any superior 
quality of dogged courage and perseverance on their part, 
as the English claim, but results from purely philosophical 
reasons. The English say that the French are too ticklish 
to stand the British bayonet, but the truth is, the French 
are too light. A British regiment will weigh thousands of 
pounds more than an equal number of Frenchmen, and the 
consequence must be when two such bodies are brought 
together with a clash, the lightest will recoil and give way. 
The boast of the English in this matter, therefore, lies not 
in their spirit, but their beef. 

In marching, as in evolution, there is also a striking dif- 
ference between the French and English soldier. The latter 
is all precision ; the former is all ease. In going from point 
to point, on matters of no more import than merely to 
change their barracks, the English soldiers march like posts, 
every bayonet and head is in exact line, and they move as 



FRENCH SOLDIERS. 211 

stiff and constrained as the wooden soldiers of a panorama. 
The Frenchman, on ihe contrary, when he has a mere march 
to perform, throws his gun easily on his shoulder, and walks 
along in his platoon, conversing with his next door neighbor, 
in the same style as if he were upon the promenade. I 
have seen an entire regiment swinging carelessly along in 
this way, from one part of Paris to another, with a whole 
troop of drummers at their head, who were not even re- 
quired to play to make them keep step. They had a simple 
object to perform, and they performed it sensibly and with- 
out converting themselves into ridiculous automatons, to 
the great pain and discomfort of every man, as would have 
been done by regular troops in the United States or England. 
The same case was observed in a review of thirty thousand 
men, which I saw in the celebrated Champ de Mars, under 
the President, Louis Napoleon. Nothing could be more 
precise or sudden than the evolutions of the soldiers while 
under review, but the instant the special purpose was 
accomplished, they relapsed into ease and marched off to 
their quarters in the same free manner as they came in. 
By humoring themselves in this way, they are enabled to 
perform long marches at one-half the fatigue they would 
suffer under a perpetual rigidity of discipline. This im- 
provement should be introduced into our regular tactics for 
the troops of the line, and much pain might be saved to 
many a tall fellow on Governor's Island, who is obliged to 
take an airing with his musket on his shoulder, for several 
hours after dinner. 

The Champ de Mars, where I beheld the review to which 
I have alluded, is an immense oblong field about two-thirds 
of a mile long, and one-third of a mile broad, in the out- 
skirts of Paris, on the banks of the Seine. It is flanked by 
ditches faced with stone as a barrier, and has on each of its 



212 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

sides four fine rows of trees to afford shade to the populace, 
who gather on its sloping embankments to views the sights 
that are performed within. It is used on Sundays for bal- 
loon ascents, horse races, and equestrian exercises of various 
sorts, under the superintendence of Monsieur Poitevin and 
wife, and on those occasions, as on the occasions of military 
reviews, it is usually patronized by th~ Resident of France. 
The Champ de Mars was originally built by the population 
of Paris, of both sexes and all ranks, for the great fete de 
la Federation, in 1790. More than sixty thousand persons 
were constantly at work till it was finished, when an altar 
was erected in the centre, and Louis XVI. made to take an 
oath to maintain the new Constitution. Here, too, Napo- 
leon held his famous Champ de Mai just before the disas- 
trous battle of Waterloo. 

The occasion when I first paid a visit to it was a very 
brilliant one. Thirty thousand of the finest troops in 
France were gathered together, and the parade collected, 
aside from the President, some of the most notable military 
men of the nation. The style of the entrance of the Presi- 
dent, however, was quite unworthy of his station and his 
republican professions. He was preceded by mounted cuiras- 
siers, who held large pistols forwards in their hands, with 
their fingers on the triggers, as if ready to fire on the 
instant, or to promptly repel some meditated assassination. 
Immediately behind him galloped two of the same wild 
looking gentlemen, while a large troop of bucklered horse- 
men closed around him on all sides, in assurance of still 
more substantial protection. There were but few cries of 
gratulation as the troop made its way through the crowds 
at the entrance of the field, but few as they were, the object 
of them did not fail to snap them up and lay them away to 
his account, by graciously raising his hat and inclining his 



LOUIS NAPOLEO N 



213 



head. On Sunday, when he visited the balloon ascension, a 
small cluster of the same kind of guards preceded and fal- 
lowed him, while in the rear of his curricle sat two liveried 
servants to complete the caricature of a Republican in 
office. Louis Napoleon takes great pains to make himself 
popular with the army, but to what effect is not easily de- 
cided, as all cries of favor on his appearance on review have 
been suppressed. With the people throughout France, who 
do not know anything of him, he probably is popular, but 
that proceeds mainly from the fact, that they have not as 
yet any names that are sufficiently known for elective pur- 
poses, as a rallying point against the charm of Napoleon. 
On this he builds his hopes of riding through the prohibi- 
tion of the constitution against re-election ; but if he were 
wise he would retire at the end of his term, and give the 
people, in the example of his quiet return to private life, 
that practical lesson in the beauties of Republicanism, which 
did the United States so much good under Washington, and 
which bewildered France, now needs so much. Had he 
nobleness of soul enough for this, he might in the end be 
much more than he is now ; but if he persists in his dis- 
honest intrigue, it is more than probable he will soon be 
less than a do£. 



Paris, July, 1851. 

Sunday in Paris — Churches and Balloons — Theatres — French 
Matrimony. 

Though the French people have a great many churches, 
and support a great number of priests, they appear to have 
very little religion. Those in Paris, who take any pains 
to observe the forms, are mostly women, and of the few 
men who are daily seen in attendance at the mass, many are 
drawn in by the coolness of the r.etreat, or from mere want 
of other occupation. The indifference of the Parisians to 
the sacred character of the Sabbath is peculiarly striking to 
an American. Instead of devoting it to quiet gloom, and 
protecting it from occupation in the way of labor, they make 
it their special fete day, and throw open most of their shops 
in expectation of an extra harvest. The Government exacts 
no distinction in its favor, nay, it appropriates it for the pur- 
poses of elections ; and the very ministers of the faith in 
which Sunday is so prominent a feature, are content to re- 
linquish two-thirds of it to frolic, provided they receive the 
first portion of the day for mass. The action of the Govern- 
ment in selecting Sunday for the purposes of election, though 
it will strike many as the most strange, is perhaps justified 
by the largest share of reason. The French Government 



SUNDAY IN PARIS. 215 

calculates, upon its fingers, the loss in the productions of a 
nation of thirty-six millions of People, by an idle day, and 
to save this they take a day already devoted to idleness, and 
use it up in public purposes. It is another means, too, of 
securing a full vote. The People accept the arrangement, 
because it furnishes them a superior excitement, but it is 
about the only serious substitute they would accept for the 
loss of a weekly jubilee. 

All over France, and indeed among most of the nations 
of the Continent, the estimation of Sunday is the same. 
But in Paris, the occasion is worked up to the highest point 
of gaiety. During the present summer the great feature of 
the amusements of Sunday in Paris, has been ballooning, 
and the most remarkable experiments in that science have 
been carried on under the direction of Monsieur Poitevin 
and wife, in the Champ de Mars. I have described this great 
field before, when relating the incidents of a military review, 
and now that I speak of it as a theatre, I have only to re- 
mind the reader, in order to give an idea of its size, that it 
is about two-thirds of a mile long, and one-third of a mile 
in breadth. Into this vast enclosure, visitors are admitted 
at ten cents the head, while seats on stands erected in eligi- 
ble stations in the field, are tariffed at two and a half to three 
francs extra. Monsieur Poitevin hires the use of the Champ 
de Mars on Sundays from the government, the government 
therefore lends him a quantity of soldiers of the line, to 
guard the entrances to the ground, and help to hold down 
the balloon, and the President himself does not hesitate to 
patronize the exhibition with his presence. The audience 
range from forty to sixty thousand persons, but as many 
as an hundred thousand have been known to be collected 
there, to see Madame Poitevin ascend in the likeness of 
Europa, mounted on a bull. 



216 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

The great rival to the Champ de Mars for Sunday exhibi- 
tions, is an open circus situated near Napoleon's triumphal 
arch, called the Hippodrome. This arena is on a grand 
scale, and will seat round its huge circle some twelve thou- 
sand people. It is devoted chiefly, as its name indicates, to 
equestrian exercises, and the character of its performances in 
that way, far exceeds in their scale and style, those of any 
similar establishment in the world. Those performances 
generally open with a splendid cavalcade of male and female 
equestrians, dressed perhaps as an ancient hawking party, or 
perhaps as a troop of courtiers of the time of Louis XIV. 
most carefully costumed. Then will follow an English 
hurdle race of male and female jockies, whistling round in 
gallant style, and jumping the barriers gaily and at full 
speed, each straining and spurring to win a bouquet of victory 
amid the acclamations of an audience, who seem half-mad 
with delight. Next perhaps will follow a race of Roman 
chariots, three in number, with horses three abreast, guided 
by women of Amazonian size, dressed in all the graces of the 
female toga. To diversify the proceedings, a comic interlude 
with harlequin upon a knowing horse, comes in, or in its 
place is introduced a state carriage, drawn by four little 
ponies, driven by monkeys, and bearing in its centre a huge 
ape, dressed to represent his royal highness Faustin the First. 
The French take great delight in this spectacle, and it is 
quietly believed by many that the affair is got up as a cari- 
cature on Lord Normanby, the English Minister. This 
heightens the zest of the joke, as the point of it is thus 
brought nearer home and levelled at an obnoxious subject; 
while the fact that it is about the only way in which a Pa- 
risian may now deride monarchy, is alone sufficient to make 
it a most popular feature of the entertainment. As matters 
go now it is not impossible it may soon be interdicted by 



BALLOONING. 217 

the government. Performances on the slack rope, feats of 
strength, of jugglery, a race of infant jockies make up the 
remainder of the mixed performance, which, when com- 
pletely over, gives way to the balloon. Then at a given 
moment the monstrous globe which has been oscillating in 
the centre of the avenue, as if presiding majestically over 
what had gone before, is let loose and ascends with its com- 
pany in the air. While you are watching it, you see another 
monster sphere rise from the Champ de Mars, and presently 
a sort of serial race takes place. "When at a sufficient height, 
a parachute, pendant below the cars of each balloon, and 
containing severally either Madame Poitevin of the Champ 
de Mars, or Monsieur Goddard of the Hippodrome, is cut 
loose, and a still more novel race commences. The descents 
in this way have thus far been always made with safety, a 
result which could hardly be expected on our side of the 
Atlantic, where, according to our teachers, such a desecra- 
tion of the Sabbath would be sure to meet with some sud- 
den retribution. 

The rivalry between the Hippodrome and the Champ de 
Mars, in the way of ballooning, has produced some very 
queer experiments, though I do not know that it has as yet 
been of any direct benefit to science. Every alternate Sun- 
day produces something new from one or the other. If 
Madame Poitevin ascends to-day upon a bull, Monsieur God- 
dard goes up on the next fete day on horseback. Spurred 
to surpass him, both Monsieur and Madame Poitevin ascend 
the following week in the same way. Next a house full of 
people, some dining, and some looking out of the windows, 
rises from the Hippodrome ; and, in faithful emulation of 
the advancement, the artists of the Champ de Mars either 
add one to the number of their horses by mounting en 
saddle attended by a groom, or fly aloft with a pair of ponies 

10 



218 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

harnessed to a wagon, in which Monsieur and Madame gaily 
sit with reins in hand. 

When I first arrived in Paris, the rival aeronauts had only 
arrived at the stage of single horses ; before I left I found 
them advanced to double teams and parachutes. A day or 
two ago I saw an ascent made from the Hippodrome, of the 
balloon " Eagle," which not only carried three persons in 
its car, but dragged upwards into dizzy space a fourth, who 
hung suspended at the end of a rope some twelve feet long, 
supported only by a stick which ran crosswise under his arms. 
It was a fearful thing to see a man thus gibbeted swung from 
his feet so perilously, but when that man, with an audacity 
unparalleled, commenced performing evolutions and turning 
somersets upon that beam hundreds and thousands of yards 
from the earth, it became positively terrific. Still the daring 
acrobat went on circling around his serial axle with the same 
confidence as if within a few inches of the tan, until he looked 
no larger in his writhings than a worm, with the final task 
before him of hauling himself up by his rope and depositing 
himself in a lot of blankets beside his more sedate friends in 
the car. What Poitevin will do in the hope to eclipse this, it 
is hard to guess, but it is fair to conclude that if he is not in 
despair, he is at least puzzled. It is probable however that 
next Sunday will introduce some new device with the dash- 
ing Madame Poitevin as the main figure in the picture. So 
much for ballooning in Paris. Though the subject seems to 
a certain extent frivolous, I have not deemed it unworthy of 
this notice, if only to make up a full exhibit of the character 
of the French people, and to give a true reflection of the Sun- 
day atmosphere of Paris. Thus it will be seen that the 
churches have it in the morning, the balloons and the circus 
have it in the* afternoon, and I may add that the dancing 
gardens, the theatres and what not, have it at night. 



THE GRAND OPERA. 219 

Among the dramatic performances, the Grand Opera is by 
far the most superb, and cannot be passed over by the 
observer of Paris without a special mention. As great as 
are the Royal Operas in London, this by far exceeds them, 
and by the manner in which it produces its pieces upon the 
stage well merits the prefix of " grand" that has been con- 
ferred upon it. It is supported to a great extent by the funds 
of the nation. Its republican title is " the National Academy 
of Music," and its leading performers after a certain period 
of service, are entitled to receive a pension from the Govern- 
ment, in the same way as if they had served the country in 
military service. Notwithstanding the house seats two 
thousand persons, whose tickets of admission will average 
over a dollar apiece, it would not be able to sustain itself, 
though it were filled every night ; so expensively is every- 
thing produced. The magnificence of the scenes, the bril- 
liancy of the illusions of moonlight, daybreak, conflagration, 
earthquakes, whenever such counterfeits are to be produced, 
exceeds, by far, anything which our meagre success in that 
way enables us to conceive of. I saw a sunrise a few nights ago 
in a desert scene of the Prodigal Son, which would have put 
any London sun to shame, while the stars in the blue firma- 
ment twinkled and shone as a Londoner reads of only in 
romances. 

The opera of the Prophet, too, presents a scene of church 
service and high mass which fully equaled the grand pageant 
that I saw at the church of St. Roch ; and I may add, in the 
costly garments of the priests, the theatrical show exceeded 
it. Great attention is paid here to scene-painting, and to 
accuracy of costume. Everything that is put upon the stage 
in the way of a picture must be accurate in all its parts ; in 
short, worthy of the efforts of a national institute. The 
most famous artists of France are therefore employed to 



220 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

paint the scenes, and the costumer who dresses even a 
peasant must consult classical and historical authorities. 
Though a piece should run a hundred nights, no dirty tights 
or soiled linen ever appear upon the supernumeraries. All 
the collars and cuffs are washed and ironed as regularly for 
each performance, as if they were the real wardrobe of a very 
neat family, and no character is entitled to put on a shoe for 
a sandal, or consult his personal taste in an ornament that 
is out of character. The result is, that these performances 
are a matter worthy of study, and furnish a satisfaction to 
the historical student and artist, as well as the mere musical 
observer. 

The ballet which is sometimes attached to these perform- 
ances is, of course, the most finished in the world. It has 
been the remark of many foreigners that it is too lascivious 
and too naked, and several writers have attributed much of 
the private gaieties of the fashionable circles of Paris to this 
demoralizing cause. I do not agree in this. I regard it 
rather as an effect than an influence, and think I can trace 
the state of morals that exist here to other causes. One 
main one, in my estimation, grows out of the style of mar- 
riages in France. Here there are no love matches, except 
among the poor. A daughter is considered as a chattel of 
the parents, and they dispose of her according to their incli- 
nations or notions of family policy. In order to enhance the 
value of this article of parental property, great care is there- 
fore taken of a girl previous to marriage, and up to that time 
she is very strictly watched. It is very common to deposit 
them in convents until her father finds a customer for her 
charms ; or, at any rate, so to keep her that she longs for 
the state of marriage as a period of liberty. She knows 
why she has been kept close, and very often resolves to 
redress herself on principles of retaliation, when she becomes 



FRENCH MATRIMONY. 



221 



free. In a majority of cases she is delivered up to an old 
man, who receives her from her family, without even con- 
sulting her wishes or her affection. The bridegroom, how- 
ever, is easily enabled to natter himself that he has made a 
good impression, for the politeness of the young lady obliges 
her to exhibit satisfaction with her choice ; and indeed it is 
not to be expected that she should experience any other sen- 
timent, when the easy conjugal tie is made out of the shreds 
of all her former restraints. I do not wish to disparage 
French morals, but I feel at liberty to recognize the correct- 
ness of the remark, which says that Paris is a place to which 
no single woman should come, and in which no married 
woman should stay. As the mail is near being closed, and 
I must now write too rapidly to philosophize or analyze, I 
will avail myself of a reference to two popular caricatures 
on marriage, which have recently come out, by way of illus- 
trating my opinion on the subject. The first of these repre- 
sents a young girl being attired for her wedding with an old 
man named Monsieur Coquillard. She confides to her wait- 
ing-maid a passion for a young officer named Henri, and 
referring to the anguish he must experience when he hears 
that she is married, exclaims with a sigh — " Ah, me ; how 
I do pity poor Henri !" At which the waiting-maid, with 
an arch inclination of the head and a significant smile, replies 
— " Yes, you pity poor Henri, but for my part I most pity 
poor Monsieur Coquillard !" The other sketch represents 
an old fellow in the hands of a mischievous young coquette, 
whom he has followed home, and who insists upon his going 
out on her back balcony in the middle of the afternoon, not- 
withstanding it is in full view of his wife's chamber windows, 
in the rear of the next street. He steps out cautiously, of 
course, and looking at his wife's apartment, remarks with 
great satisfaction — " Ah, how fortunate, that in the very 



222 



EUROPE IN A HURRY. 



middle of the afternoon the curtains of my wife's bed-room 
should be so closely drawn." Suddenly, however, he is 
struck with an alarming reflection, perhaps suggested by his 
own conduct, and he exclaims — " But, Mon Dieu, why are 
the curtains so closely drawn !" 



Paris, July, 1851. 
The Palaces of Paris. 

Though the palaces of Paris were among the first public 
objects I visited on my arrival in that metropolis, I have de- 
liberately avoided speaking of them until now ; not because 
1 had laid down any rules for my observations, but because 
they were the things in Paris that made the most unpleasant 
impression on my mind, and I was averse to put her on the 
record unfavorably at the outset. Having, however, dis- 
posed of all other matters in this quarter that I intend to 
make the subject of remark, my repugnance must give way, 
and allow me to come to them as the conclusion of my 
task. 

The principal palaces of Paris and its environs, are the 
Tuilleries, Versailles, Fontainebleau, Luxembourg, National, 
St. Cloud, the Great and Little Trianon, St. Germain, Com- 
peigne, Meudon, and the Palais de P Ely see National. The 
first of these was the last royal residence of Louis Philippe ; 
the last is now the princely habitation of Monsieur Louis 
Bonaparte, who is called, under the theory of a stupendous 
imposition — the President of France. These two dwellings, 
and the characters I have identified with them, are coupled 
well together, for the termination of their public history for 



224 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the present era will doubtless be the same ; unless perhaps 
the sacking of the Elysee be improved by the sacrifice of 
its execrable occupant. 

The Palace of the Tuilleries was commenced by the infa- 
mous Catherine de Medicis, of St. Bartholomew massacre 
notoriety, in 1564, who intended to use it as a residence for 
herself. It was enlarged by Henry the Fourth, was further 
extended by Louis the Thirteenth, and finished by the Four- 
teenth of that name. It is associated with nearly all the 
great historical events of the capital from the time of its 
foundation, and during the period of the revolution it figures 
in almost every page of history. After that stormy inter- 
regnum, it was re-occupied by Napoleon as First Consul, 
and in 1808 he began a northern wing or gallery, which was 
to stretch in the rear as a parallel and companion to the long 
gallery of the Louvre. The Emperor was defeated in this 
intention, however, by the cupidity of a saddler whose house 
lay in the road of the intended edifice. Finding himself in 
the way of a royal purchaser, this speculator rose from price 
to price, until at length the commissioners of the intended 
work became so exasperated with the fellow's greediness, 
that they waited on the Emperor and advised him to raze 
the hovel to the ground. " No," said Napoleon, " let it 
stand as a monument of his avarice and of my respect for 
the laws." It did stand ; the proposed extension was aban- 
doned, and the intention of the Emperor laid dormant for 
over forty years. The idea, however, has recently been re- 
sumed, and whole stacks of five and six story buildings, 
which have stood for centuries, are now in process of demo- 
lition for the extension of the structure. What the object 
of the government is in adding to a building, most of which 
is already unoccupied, I have not ascertained, but it lies be- 
tween a desire to aggrandize Paris still further, for the temp- 



THE PALACES OF PARIS. 225 

tation of strangers, and the necessity of stopping the mouth 
of discontented labor by furnishing it with work and food to 
keep it quiet. 

The latter probably is the main cause of the new under- 
taking, and in this view it presents the singular spectacle of 
the practical adoption of one of the expedients of socialism, 
by a Government which represses socialistic theories by fire 
and sword. The cost of these new works will be immense ; 
and though designed to beautify the capital alone, the appro- 
priation is levied from the entire treasury of France. In 
this way has Paris been adorned from time immemorial ; 
the coffers of the nation have been continually drained to 
make her fine, yet none of the districts have ever thought 
of protesting against a system of municipal aristocracy so 
invidious and oppressive to them all. » Indeed this custom 
prevails throughout Europe in favor of all the capitals of 
great countries ; the will of the monarch seems to be the 
only matter to be taken in consideration, and even in Eng- 
land millions might be voted for triumphal arches and na- 
tional museums, to be put up in London, without inspiring 
a single town throughout the realm with a notion of its rights 
of protest. In this way are the chief cities of the old world 
made magnificent in public works beyond any power of 
transatlantic imitation, and I, for one, hope we may always 
remain inferior in aggregated grandeur, if we are to only 
climb to comparison at the expense of equality in the rights 
of cities. 

"See how magnificently we build upon this continent," 
said a Frenchman to me, one day pointing to the walls of 
the new additions of the Palais de Justice. " We build for 
all time; they do the same in England; the same in Ger- 
many, and they did the same in ancient Rome. Unless you 
change your present system, you will never leave behind 



226 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

you such relics of your greatness as Notre Dame, the Pan- 
theon and Westminster Abbey." " You are right," said I ; 
"you build for all time, and for lineal proprietors; but we 
build only for the present time, and for the possessor. With 
us, each generation takes care of itself, and we have some 
confidence in the capacities of our posterity. We shall 
therefore probably never leave behind us such relics as the 
Acropolis or the Pantheon, and for my part I hope we may 
not. There is no national value in a relic that outlives the 
virtue of a people." But Paris will present such ruins to 
posterity, and it may be they will be ready at no distant 
day. Unless tne new republican regime that is expected to 
redeem France in the ordeal of the coming spring, close 
these palaces, change the location of the Congress to some 
place where it may not be corrupted or overawed, the people 
of Frande will discover that, instead of Louis XVI. or 
Charles X. or Louis Philippe, Paris is their real tyrant, and 
will march upon it, and lay its edifices level with the ground. 
At present she does not deserve this fate. Though she has 
put France in fever repeatedly during the present century, 
and though it costs millions to keep her quiet, her agitations 
have been on the side of Liberty, and all the revolutions she 
has projected have advanced mankind. But she must be 
careful that having performed these good works, she does 
not indulge whim instead of judgment, and rule over her 
sister districts as a tyrant. Her exploits do not give her 
the privilege to legislate by emeutes, and she has no right, 
because of her services, to plunge her hand in the treasury 
and revel in reviews, and shows, and palaces, at the expense 
of the entire people. She should abolish the first, and tear 
the latter down ; for it is better to resign an unworthy habit 
of our own accord, than to be corrected out of it by the in- 
dignation of our neighbors. If she is to assume the regal 



THE PALACES OF PARIS. 227 

sway and profligate habits of the monarchs whom she has 
suppressed, she must expect the sirocco of devastation, as 
they received dethronement, and the guillotine. 

Of the palaces that I have named, none equals in extent 
or magnificence the royal palace of Versailles, and its de- 
pendencies the Great and Little Trianon. The Great 
Trianon was made a villa or dependence to the Palace of 
Versailles by Louis XIV. for Madame de Main tenon, and 
the latter was built by Louis XV. for his mistress, Made- 
moiselle du Berri. Such is the noble policy of kings, and 
through such means are Europeans enabled to boast that 
they have finer buildings than we have in Boston, Philadel- 
phia, or New York. They have indeed ; and a fine set of 
fellows truly were they who put them up. 

These palaces are still decorated and filled with the regal 
finery which belonged to them during royal occupation. 
All of them have detachments of servants allotted to keep 
them bright and habitable, and guides are appointed to show 
visitors through on given days. The Great Trianon was 
once a favorite residence of Napoleon, and subsequently it 
was to have been allotted to the use of Queen Victoria in 
her meditated visit to Louis Philippe in 1848. The revo- 
lution which broke out, however, put an end to the brave 
scheme of royal frolic, and it is not likely her Majesty will 
ever have an opportunity of perfecting the intentions of that 
time. The preparations, however, were pretty well advan- 
ced, for you are shown the royal bed that was to have re- 
ceived the Majesty of Britain in all the perfection of an in- 
describable magnificence, and suites of adjoining chambers 
are likewise opened to you that absolutely wound you with 
their glitter. Here you are also shown Napoleon's bath 
and wash room ; the King of Rome's cradle, the Empress 
Josephine's bed ; the bed of Louis Philippe ; and Madame 



228 EUROPE IN A HUBRT. 

de Maintenon's sedan chair. Besides these articles, the 
rooms are filled with rich vases, costly marbles, mirrors, 
paintings, rich hangings of silk and satin, just as they were* 
adorned when in daily royal use, and as if they hourly ex- 
pected a habitant. The property in this palace, or villa, 
and the villa of the Little Trianon, must be worth millions 
of dollars; nevertheless, here it is preserved in idleness and 
in offense to the Republic ; while, more offensive still, the 
only use to which it now is put, is to afford occasional in- 
dulgence to that precious republican, Prince Louis Napoleon 
Bonaparte, the President of France. 

I was not aware of the imperial habits of Monsieur le 
President, at the time I first visited the gorgeous Palace of 
St. Cloud, and-I was thoroughly astonished when I was told 
by the custodian of the place, that the Emperor's bed was 
sometimes used by the President in his temporary sojourns 
there. "What!" said I, "do you mean to inform me that 
the President ever resides in this palace ?" " Oh, yes, sir, 
very often," was the answer, " and it was also the favorite 
palace of the Emperor." I paused a moment on the new 
insight which this gave me of democracy in France, and then 
turning to the man, I pointed to the royal couch, and asked 
if any other of the sovereigns of Paris ever slept there. 
But he would not deign to make me a reply ; he was evi- 
dently imbued with the royalism of the place, and looked 
upon me as an irreverent scoffer. I had no time to soften 
his disdain, for I was busy in thinking of the folly as well 
as the baseness of the man, who could be so recreant to the 
high trusts and high morality of his position, as to thus dis- 
grace it. There will come a day when it may be his bitter 
fate to know that he might rather have chosen the humblest 
poof in France for his covering, than ever have sought the 
luxurious repose of this imperial dwelling. With the spec- 



THE PALACES OF PARIS. 229 

tacle of such a President before us, it ceases to be a wonder 
to our minds that democratic articles are proscribed from 
the press of Paris; that the cry of " Vive la Bepublique /" 
is sedition, while monarchy is openly advocated from the 
tribunals and in the journals, without prosecution from the 
government. 

The Palace of Versailles also was built by Louis the 
Fourteenth, surnamed the Grand Monarque, probably from 
his habits of extravagance and the splendor of his court. 
This palace has been classed by some writers as among the 
wonders of the world, and they claim that rank for it on the 
ground that no structure of ancient or modern time has ever 
equaled it in magnificence or extent. It is situated about 
twelve miles from Paris, though it may almost be considered 
of the city, from the facility with which it is reached by 
rail-road. Its site was originally a great wood where Henry 
the Fourth used to hunt ; but in 1664, Louis the Fourteenth, 
becoming tired of his town residences, determined to lay 
out a royal palace there, which should be worthy of the 
splendors of his court. Twenty leagues were marked out 
for its park, and the talents of the most celebrated architects 
of the nation were put in requisition for the edifice and the 
adornment of its grounds. It was finished in 1781, at which 
time it had cost the nation the enormous sum of two hun- 
dred millions of dollars. Indeed, all France was impover- 
ished to raise means for this monument to the vanity of a 
king, and frequently there were thirty thousand people work- 
ing on it at a time. Often the whole army, when not en- 
gaged in war, would be employed by the engineers in laying 
out the grounds. 

These are not only diversified by woods and plains, but 
are filled with fountains, whispering waterfalls, noisy cata- 
racts, quiet lakes, and even miniature rivers ; while at almost 



230 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

every rood, through avenues of miles, you are met by ex- 
quisite marble figures or groups of statuary, each of which 
would be thought worthy of a special exhibition in the 
United States. The fountains, however, exceed all notions 
which can be obtained anywhere else of the ornamental 
powers of water, w r hile the designs and execution of them 
are calculated to appal all American notions of economy. 
The statuary and ornaments of one fountain alone, " the 
Colonnade," could not have been executed at less than a mil- 
lion of dollars, while that of the great basin of " Neptune," 
on the semi-circular banks of w r hich I saw full sixty thousand 
people stand, must have led to the expenditure of more than 
treble that sum. I do not know how many of these grand 
fountains there are, but whichever way you turn, you find 
them playing at the end of lofty avenues, until you almost 
become bewildered with the excess of beauty which breaks 
at every point of view. What renders these performances 
the more remarkable is, that all the jets are performed by 
artificial means ; the water is laboriously pumped up from 
the river Eure, and the fountains are supplied only at the 
cost of ten thousand francs a time. They are now only oc- 
casionally played by the republican government of France, 
and what was originally designed for the luxurious strollings 
of a licentious court, is now enjoyed by the sovereign swarms 
of Paris. The secluded paths w r hich were whilom devoted 
to the intrigues of lavender courtiers and melting dames, are 
now accessible to the vulgar million; while the close grotto 
or silent alcove which knew but the sighs of titled elegance, 
and perchance the fuss of silk, now murmur only with the 
passionate syllables of the gay figurante or the susceptible 
grizette. In olden times this enchanted region was locked 
in by cordons of soldiers, and the outside world knew no- 
thing of the revelries that were performed within ; now, 



THE PALACES OF PARIS. 231 

however, that the million is allowed to pour through its 
voluptuous mazes, the secret orgies of the past are revealed 
by inference, and a lesson is offered that should be a bless- 
ing to the future. But, unfortunately, the lesson is not re- 
ceived with profit. We cannot cure ourselves of propensity 
by the enjoyment of indulgence, and the people of Paris 
become enervated and corrupted by these voluptuous scenes 
to sympathetic aspirations. Such spectacles and such resorts 
are unfit for any nation which intends to pursue a manly 
and vigorous career, and the sooner they are destroyed the 
better will it be, not only for Paris, but for France. I de- 
rived no pleasure in my observation of their grandeur. At 
every step, and every new spectacle of expense, I became 
embittered by the waste of means, and kept execrating the 
abandoned wretch, who, for his own vile pleasures and his 
personal aggrandizement, had impoverished an entire People 
in this monument of his vanity. 

These sentiments were not by any means softened or dis- 
pelled by an examination of the interior of the palace. The 
magnificence, which I had seen exhibited in the palaces I 
have heretofore spoken of, was all exceeded here, and mul- 
tiplied to a degree that not only fatigued my eye, but 
wearied the imagination. The greater part of the builduig 
is now devoted to galleries of painting and statuary, a resi- 
dence in it having been found too expensive and indeed too 
dangerous for any modern monarch. Napoleon once medi- 
tated establishing his court there, but gave up the idea when 
informed it would require an appropriation of fifty millions 
of francs merely to prepare the vast establishment for his 
reception. Louis XVIII. who succeeded him, was also de- 
terred by the same consideration ; nevertheless he spent six 
millions to put it in repair. Louis Philippe, however, con- 
cluding it to be too expensive for modern notions of the 



232 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

rights and dignities of royalty, decided to convert it into a na- 
tional museum for the reception of every thing that appertain- 
ed to the history of France. He accordingly had it restored at 
an expense of fifteen millions of francs, and inscribed over its 
portals " A toutes les gloires de la France.'''' An immense 
series of paintings, sculpture, and works of art illustrative of 
every event that has reflected glory on the annals of France 
(and many that have not) now fill its splendid halls, and form 
an historical museum that has not its parallel in Europe. 

Its extent may be conceived by the fact that its galleries 
of paintings and curiosities, including the royal chambers, 
make up a distance of three miles. The richest part of all, 
is the portion allotted to the apartments of the King, and the 
most striking features of these apartments are the ceilings. 
There, gold and arabesque colors and painting are mixed in 
the most unexampled and gorgeous profusion, and art is ex- 
hausted in every trick of show. The Queen's apartments 
are more simple and they are rather remarkble for their 
smallness, and the lowness of their ceilings when compared 
with the King's. They are, however, sufficiently magnifi- 
cent, and present an abundance of looking-glass, which indi- 
cates one of the female characteristics of self-admiration. 
One peculiar alcove in the apartments of Marie Antoinette, 
is of entire glass, both sides and ceiling, and viewed from 
the voluptuous sofa which is placed within it, produces some 
very queer effects. Luxury was studied by these people in 
every grotesque fashion, and it was a happy day for France 
when such degraded guardians of the realm were driven from 
their dazzling sty. From this looking-glass chamber you 
are led to the passage through which its last fair occupant, 
above named, made her escape on the 10th August, and 
shown the door where the faithful Swiss guard sacrificed his 
life to cover her retreat. 



THE PALACES OF PARIS. 233 

In front of the palace is pointed out the window where 
herself and the King appeared in answer to the summons of 
the Parisians who came to demand of the Little Baker and 
his wife, as they called them, bread for the famishing 
mouths in Paris. The people on that occasion meditated 
the destruction of the edifice, but had too much other im- 
portant business on their hands to perform it. Again in the 
last revolution of 1848 they marched towards it in the same 
wise spirit, but they were turned back by the Provisional 
Government with cannon loaded to the muzzle with grape 
and canister. The next time they move upon it, they will 
effect their object, and it is to be hoped that they will make 
their work of devastation thorough. Such monuments of 
royal luxury should not be allowed to exist in the midst of 
a republic, or in a country which is seeking to become one ; 
and it is further to be hoped that the spirit of purification 
will not satisfy itself upon this single structure, but perform 
the same task for every palace in the kingdom. If a Presi- 
dent could only be caught in one, and stifled like a rat under 
a barrel, the benefit would be complete. This is the kind 
of purification and reform that Paris most wants. Her 
luxuries should be abolished ; her paintings and sculptures 
burnt. They are worth nothing ; they merely deify nudity 
and corrupt the sentiment of the people ! Not one of them 
teaches a decent or a useful lesson, and the sooner they are 
broken to fragments or shriveled to cinders the better. 
Eome, by clinging to such baubles, and groveling in the 
mire of the pleasures they inspired, sank under the desola- 
tion of the Goths ; and it will be well for the people of Paris, 
who now equal, perhaps exceed any of the ancients in splen- 
dor and voluptuousness, to avoid by a resolute iconoclasm, 
and severe reform, a similar scathing at the hands of her 
exasperated and indignant sister districts. 



July 6th, 1851. 

Brussels — Waterloo. 

I left Paris after a three weeks' stay, glad to find myself 
moving forward, but still reluctant to bid good-by to its 
delights. My destination was to Rome, towards which two 
great routes offered themselves, the most direct being 
through France, and the most delightful running with the 
Rhine. I chose the latter, and having distributed a due- 
quantity of francs among the waiters, I set out for the depot 
of the rail-road to Brussels. By some misunderstanding, the 
coachman drove me to the Strasbourg station, but being 
well in advance of time, I lost nothing by the delay, for I 
had the satisfaction of hearing my valet lighten the burden 
of his heart by a shower of French oaths, and the further 
satisfaction of seeing a depot that ranks among the finest 
buildings in Paris. Not without reason does it bear this 
reputation. It is built of stone and iron, has a facade of 
one hundred and sixty-five feet, a depth of over four hun- 
dred, and cost by itself, without reference to the rail-way, 
the enormous sum of two millions of francs. Moreover, it 
had the honor of delaying the railway during the entire 
period of four years, by the absorption of all the early 
appropriations of the government into itself. This circum- 



BRUSSELS 



235 



stance is worthy of remark, and worthy also of being con- 
trasted with what would be the policy of our people in a 
similar case. With us, as soon as the government, or a 
company, come to the conclusion that a rail-road route is 
necessary to this point or that, and subscribe funds for 
its construction, the first efforts are directed to the grade 
and the laying of the rails ; here, however, the entire public 
work is baffled and delayed four years, in order to put up 
an ornamental station, in a style calculated to last forever. 
An ordinary shed would have done as well for all the pur- 
poses of shelter and convenience, but rapidity is not conso- 
nant with European notions, and in public matters, it seems 
to be a settled fancy to begin at the wrong end. 

I left Paris in the rail-way for Brussels, at a quarter before 
twelve, and arrived at my destination at nine in the even- 
ing, over a distance, as I judge, of near two hundred miles. 
The ride, however, was by no means so irksome to me as 
that between Calais and Paris ; the country was finer, the 
hour of starting more convenient, and besides, I had fur- 
bished up my French into conversational trim. It was high 
summer, and the fields were waving to and fro with their 
abundance, while in many places men and women were 
working together, gathering in the crops. To an American, 
this is a most peculiar sight, and never fails to make a strong 
impression when it first meets his eye. I have since seen it 
throughout Europe, and also in England, and every time 
the unpleasant picture has appeared, I have been reminded 
of a thought I have expressed before, that the women of 
our country ought to thank God that they were born on the 
western shore of the Atlantic. 

On the continent of Europe, women are very little in 
esteem. If they are poor, they are looked upon as cattle ; 
if more fortunately born, they are viewed only as means 



236 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of pastime, and are married or obtained only for fashion or 
convenience. Unfortunately, the latter estimation of them 
is too prevalent with us, but then we never yoke any class 
of them except with our arms, or put them in the fields 
except to milk the cows, or go philandering after blackber- 
ries and daisies. I have seen women on this continent 
wielding the sickle, the scythe, guiding the plow, and carry- 
ing on their backs the ordure which was to manure the land, 
and I have in the. same picture seen huge lusty-looking 
fellows lying on their backs observing the labor of their 
weaker helpmates with the most superlative indifference. 
The truth is, men are scarce in this meridian, and conse- 
quently highly prized. They are continually thinned by 
wars, and snapped up and marched away by the conscrip- 
tions. The result is, that those who are left are very much 
in the condition of the ten thousand Spartans who were sent 
back at the intercession of the Lacedemonian fair, to attend to 
the necessities of population. This view of the case suggests 
a very strong excuse for the condition of morals in many of 
the military States of Europe. My observations on this 
state of affairs to an Englishman who sat next me in the 
cars, and its comparison with the state of things that exists 
in the United States on the same subject, drew from him the 
remark that we spoiled the women in America by too much 
deference and attention. The observation was true, so I 
admitted it, but said I in defense, " the error is not without 
compensation — for, in spoiling our women, we improve our- 
selves." 

The rail-road cars, that is to say those of the first class, 
are very fine in France, and indeed all over the Continent 
of Europe. Fine as they are in England, they are still bet- 
ter here, and in both places, for comfort much excel our 
own. They are composed of separate coach-bodies of enor- 



BRUSSELS. 237 

mous size, calculated to hold six or eight persons, and pad- 
ded luxuriously, so as to give the best invitation possible to 
loll and sleep. Their disadvantages are, that you cannot 
move about as you can in our long rail-road saloons, and that 
you are closed in by the conductor beyond power of escape, 
in case of accident. One of your dangers is the peril of fire. 
A few years ago, when it was the custom of the conductors 
to lock the doors, a train on the rail-road to Versailles took 
fire, and burned up and otherwise seriously injured the 
greatest portion of the passengers. The screams of the suf- 
ferers were made in vain ; in vain they sought to break from 
their prisons and meet a less appalling death by escaping 
forth. All the while the train was darting through the air 
like a raging comet, and the unhappy victims in its cells 
were shriveled out of life before it could be stopped in its 
career. Since that time a law has forbidden the conductors 
to lock the passengers in, but they virtually evade it by 
using a catch-lock, which is almost irresistible to the 
unpracticed hand. It is to their interest to keep passen- 
gers from pouring out at the short stations, to the delay of 
the train. 

The arrangements of the continental rail-ways are in all 
respects good. The conductor wears a uniform by which he 
is known ; he is civil in his answers to all inquiries, and he 
makes it his duty to inform you at the larger stations, how 
many minutes you have to stop. With us the case is dif- 
ferent. Though rail-roads are patronized liberally, their 
agents are suffered to behave most uncivilly to their cus- 
tomers, and to treat them indeed, as if they were the recipi- 
ents of favor, instead of being the supporters of the road. It 
is rather venturesome to put a question to an American con- 
ductor, and if you escape without insult, you feel inclined to 
exhibit special gratitude for his unusual condescension. In 



238 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

other respects, too, the European rail-roads are better than 
ours. They are better attended by men along the road at 
the switches and turnings, and at the stopping places neat 
little cabinets are provided, into which the ladies and gentle- 
men may separately retire. There is no false delicacy on 
this subject, and gentlemen having ladies in their care have 
no hesitation in handing them to these cabinets, and in wait- 
ing for them, to conduct them to the cars again when they 
return. At the stations are also well provided buffets, or 
restaurants, where you can get refreshments of the best style 
without the least delay. All these things help to relieve 
the tedium of a long journey, and some of them defeat dis- 
comforts which might be exceedingly injurious. 

The country, in the latter half of the day's journey between 
Paris and Brussels, is very finely cultivated, and towards 
the close of the afternoon you are struck with the beauty of 
the town of Valenciennes, which meets you near the borders 
of Belgium. Its chief feature, where the rail-road passes, is 
long avenues of trees of tallest growth, which intersect the 
fields, and mark their bounds, in the same manner that split 
rails or stone fences do with us. Sometimes these fences 
consist of bush-willow, trimmed about as large as orange 
trees, and for the sustenance of these in proper verdure, 
canals are cut beside them, which receive the drainage of 
the land. From Valenciennes to Brussels the country con- 
tinues to increase in rural beauty, and cottages on little 
farms are multiplied so as to give the face of the land almost 
the appearance of a continuous town. 

On the morning after my arrival at Brussels, I chartered 
a new valet de place, in order that I might use my time to 
the best advantage, and after a short consultation with him, 
decided to occupy the day in a drive to the battle-field of 
Waterloo. Previous to this arrangement, however, I had 



BRUSSELS. 239 

sallied out early to the market-place — always an object of 
interest in every city — and from thence made a circuit of the 
lower portion of the town. It was Sunday morning, but 
everywhere, in the streets as well as the arcades, I found the 
shops open, and trades-people and street-hawkers as busy as 
the most enthusiastic lover of industry would wish to see 
them on a week day. In this respect the city looked like 
Paris — indeed, it is the ambition of the people to make it 
appear as much so as possible. The poorer women, how- 
ever, dress more gaudy than the French; at a distance, a 
knot of them may be taken for a party of soldiers in gay 
uniforms, their colored head-ribbons looking like plumes, 
and their flashy bodices like parti-colored coats. Now and 
then one passes by in the charming simplicity of a grisette's 
cap, but the face under it is a little too broad, and it lacks the 
piquancy and smartness of the French original. The mar- 
ket is held in an open square, called the Grand Place, in front 
of the Hotel de Ville, and is celebrated as the scene of the 
execution of the Counts Egmont and Horn, by the Alva, 
the Spanish viceroy, in his persecution of the Christians in 
1568. On the occasion when I visited it, it was a miniature 
fair, as well as market — things of all kinds, from plain mus- 
lin to a peacock, being offered for sale. One prominent 
article of trade were dogs, and a principal class of admirers 
and purchasers of these animals were women. Dogs are put 
to a variety of uses in this part of the w r orld, and but few 
of them are allowed to enjoy the lives of savans and philos- 
ophers as in our country. Here were produced the watch- 
dog, the heavy mastiff for drawing little carts or traveling 
on tread-mills, the bull-dog to pull down cattle, the hound 
to hunt, the shepherd's dog for the fold, terriers for vermin, 
and spaniels and setters as pets for my lady's chamber. 
Here, as in Paris too, it is a very pleasant sight to see ladies 



240 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

leading dogs, and their favorites are not always of the smallest 
size. 

After breakfast my barouche was ready for me, and I set 
out for the famous field of Waterloo, alone. From Brus- 
sels, which was the quarters of the British on the occasion 
of the battle, my course lay along the road by which the 
allied army under Wellington pushed forward toward the 
memorable plain. As I rolled along, the picture of that 
martial swarm rose vividly before me. I could hear the 
lumbering jar of cannon, the clank of accoutrements, the 
hurried order, the clatter of horse upon the road, and the 
muffled tramp of the squadrons, as they moved forward with 
silent step, each man ruminating upon the chances of the 
strife he was about to undertake. By-and-by I came to the 
wood of Soignes, immortalized by Shakspeare and Scott under 
the title of Ardennes, and strengthened in the recollections 
of posterity by the events of the bloodiest day that ever 
dawned upon the world. Before me, I fancied I could see, 
awaiting their arrival, the Thunderer of France, with his 
legions spread and calmly waiting for the most audacious 
contest which even his daring spirit ever undertook. Next, 
I could see the meeting and the strife. The boom of cannon, 
the rush of legion at legion, the crash of manhood as it met 
and broke into bloody foam, like shattered waves in their 
recoil ; the rattling of musketry ; the platoon wilting before 
the deadly rain of lead and fire ; the circling of horse ; the 
rider reeling from his saddle ; and stricken thousands writh- 
ing on the ground, some vainly endeavoring to drown the 
drum in cries for aid ; some making the last toilet of their 
souls with prayer, and others wandering in fond dotage to 
where wife or sweetheart lived, and thus entwined with the 
phantoms of their love, forgetting their pain, and floating 
sweetly out of life. Such reveries as these are by no means 



WATERLOO. 241 

strained ; they enforce themselves upon the mind of every 
visitor to Waterloo, and, to a man of any imagination, will 
always be more vivid than can be written down. For my 
part, I became absorbed by the illusion of the scene, and 
had it not been for the desperate importunity of the beggars 
that waylaid my coach during the entire route, I would have 
been in the smoke of the battle and the bustle of the march 
all the way. But at every short distance some apparent 
cripple hobbled into the road, and, notwithstanding my driver 
urged his horses to a sharp pace, would keep up to the vehi- 
cle with a facility that, considering his condition, seemed 
little less than miraculous. Next a blind man would run 
out, led by the hand by some boy or girl, to trot step for 
step with my speed, until his appeals were answered. Then 
perhaps little girls would chase the coach with bouquets, or 
single roses, and, flinging them in upon my lap, take me by 
a coup de main which it was impossible to resist. Another 
variety of mendicant w r ere tumbling boys, who would lie in 
wait at the foot of some hill, and while we were obliged to 
labor slowly up, enter into a series of somersaults for my 
amusement, in the intervals of which they would run towards 
me with appeals for alms. I had quite a lot of coppers when 
I first set out, but they soon became exhausted ; I was then 
obliged to have resort to several half franc pieces which I 
found in my pocket ; at length these too gave out, and I 
suffered myself to be taken twice for a full franc, once by an 
old woman on crutches, and next by a young woman with 
two children at the breast. On my arrival at the battle- 
field, my lesser ammunition was quite drained out, and 1 
had no coin smaller than a five franc piece. I therefore felt 
myself proof against further importunity, and resolutely 
buttoned up my pocket. Scarcely had I descended from my 
coach, however, before an aged couple stopped my way, and 



11 



242 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

presented two such piteous and whining faces, that I at once 
felt it would be quite cheap to get rid of them for two or 
three small coins more. I had no idea, however, of giving 
away a five franc piece, and suggested the difficulty to my 
guide. " Oh, that need not trouble you," said he, " the old 
fellow is well off, and he will give you change." The novelty 
of the notion pleased me, so 1 handed out a five franc piece, 
received, according to my request, four francs in exchange, 
whereupon a mutual bow was exchanged on both sides, and 
having expressed our distinguished consideration of each other, 
we drew gradually apart, they to discount the charity of 
some new victim, and I to resign myself to the instructions 
of my cicerone. As they hobbled off, however, and as I 
glanced alternately at their departing figures and the change 
in my hand, I could not suppress a regret, that in a transac- 
tion which had been conducted with so much form and pre- 
cision, receipts had not been exacted on both sides. 

The guide whom I had employed in Brussels did not serve 
for the purposes of the battle ground. He knew it well 
enough, unquestionably, but there seems to be a tacit comity 
and understanding between people of the ouvrier class all 
over Europe, not to interfere with each other ; in other 
words, to play into each other's hands. I was therefore de- 
livered over to the care of Serjeant Munday, an English sol- 
dier who was in the battle, and who now resides upon the 
battle ground for the purpose of supplying the place of his 
dead brother-in-law, the Serjeant Cotton, who for so long a 
time was the favorite cicerone of Waterloo. 

The face of the great theatre on which the fate of Europe 
was decided, was covered with grain at the time of my visit, 
and in the same state, with the exception of certain monu- 
ments, as on the day of the fight. The morning beheld the 
plain rich with tall crops, the evening saw it like'a ploughed 



WATERLOO. 243 

field — nay, unctuous with blood and trodden like a sty. 
With the aid of a map and Serjeant Munday's explanations, I 
commenced locating the different branches of the French and 
allied force; fixing the positions of the commanders; tracing 
the movements of the different divisions when in charge, and 
dwelling upon the spots where the most distinguished war- 
riors fell. I saw where Napoleon first took his stand ; the spot 
to which he and his staff changed their places ; where Wel- 
lington was established with his staff; where Grouchy should 
have come up to the re-inforcement of the French, and where 
Blucher at length arrived to decide, with fresh legions, the 
fate of a contest that was reeling and staggering with fatigue. 
Though I had previously read every account of the battle 
published in the English language, this was the first time I 
understood the character of the engagement. Before, every- 
thing had been confused ; now, there was nothing that was 
not clear, and I was enabled to appreciate the tremendous 
disadvantages which the French labored under, from the 
possession, by the English, of the Chateau of Hugornont. It 
was Napoleon's misfortune, when choosing his ground, to 
overlook this little fortalice, and to pick up a guide who was 
not aware of its existence. The result was, the English dis- 
covered it among the trees, and finding it w r as a virtual castle 
thrown far out upon their right, so as to secure it from any 
probability of being turned, eagerly seized upon it and kept 
it filled with troops the entire day. Here it was that the 
most desperate fighting took place, but though the tide of 
valor rolled in fierce billows against it, one following the 
other from morn till night, they were shivered at its base, 
and rolled back in hopeless ruin. I had not made much pro- 
gress in my examination before I was joined by a young 
gentleman who proved to be an English officer in the Aus- 
trian service. He had arrived at the Serjeant's house a 



244 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

little later than I, and had rode up to the field to join him 
and share the advantage of his explanations. Having ascer- 
tained that I had no objection to his company, he dismounted 
and we made a tour of the place together. Previous to his 
arrival, I had indulged in a few free remarks to the serjeant T 
but now I confined myself to inquiries. My companion, per- 
ceiving I was an American, pursued the same prudent course, 
and we walked quietly over the fields with vastly different 
sensations. 

Though in the same state of dilapidation it was left by the 
fusilade, we found the chateau still inhabited, and for the 
privilege of looking at its ruins and tracing the havoc of* 
some special shot, paid a franc apiece, and enjoyed the priv- 
ilege of a seat. We further improved our repose by drink- 
ing a bottle of wine together; or rather by drinking a 
small portion of one, and of seeing the red residue dis- 
appear behind the grey moustache of our old soldier guide. 
From Hugomont we directed our steps again to the slope 
behind which lay the Guards who formed Wellington's re- 
serve, and had traced to us by the finger of the serjeant, the 
fatal triangle into which the Old Imperial Guard, under 
Ney, were drawn. The secret of their ruin was explained. 
A deadly cross fire poured upon them as thick as rain, and 
they sunk before it as if they had been blown down by a 
tornado, or shriveled before a tempest of fire. It was at 
this moment the cry of " up Guards" was given to the 
flower of the English force which had been in repose all day, 
and that the panic took possession of the French. To me 
the entire of this scene was painful, and the only piece of 
consolation received was, when the guide paused at a certain 
portion of the field with the remark, " It was at this spot, 
late in the afternoon, when Wellington, fearing things were 
going against him, made use of the expression — ' Would to 



WATERLOO. 245 

God that night or Blucher were come !' " I experienced a 
sort of exultation at this involuntary confession of the Bri- 
tish General that he was dead beat, and rejoiced in the 
alarm of soul which it exhibited. " In the next moment" 
continued our guide, " large masses of troops appeared ad- 
vancing in the distance. The telescopes of both com- 
manders were turned towards them. ' It is Grouchy at 
last,' said Napoleon. ' It is Blucher and his Prussians,' said 
Wellington." The latter turned out to be the case ; the 
day was lost to France, and the star of Fortune sank from 
the eyes of Bonaparte forever. 



-There last the Eagle flew, 



Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain, 
Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through ; 
I Ambition's life and labors all were vain, 

He wore the shattered links of the world's broken chain." 

I had now consumed four hours on the field, and having 
(returned to the point whence I had started, handed my guide 
his fee, and returned to my carriage with a saddened spirit. 
The thoughts I then experienced are shared by every Ameri- 
can reader, so I need not describe them. The afternoon was 
closing, I gave directions to be driven fast, and to protect 
myself from the importunities of beggars, I provided myself 
'with a lot of pebbles, which I tossed behind me as they 
came up, leaving them to scramble for them in the dust, on 
the supposition they were coin, until I was beyond their 
each. I have no doubt I was rewarded with a few curses 
for the ruse ; nevertheless, I would advise travelers, when 
too much annoyed by professional mendicants, to follow the 
same course. 



July, 1851. 

Brussels — The Miraculous Wafers — Lace Manufactory — 
Antwerp. 

On the morning after my visit to the fields of Waterloo, 
I devoted myself to a general examination of the city of 
Brussels, its people, its edifices, and its works of art. To 
the former 1 could of course extend only a very cursory 
observation ; but to the latter I gave a very fair attention, 
and bestowed as much time upon them, as such objects have 
a right to claim from a mere traveler. 

The people and the place make a good impression on a 
stranger. The former are well clad, industrious, intelligent, 
and affable, and the city is picturesque, in many portions 
elegant, and in all portions clean. The population is vari- 
ously estimated at a hundred to a hundred and thirty 
thousand inhabitants, but this latter figure is made up by 
taking in the suburbs. Many of the residents of the city 
are fashionable English people, who, on finding themselves 
embarrassed by the extravagance of aristocratic life at home, 
retire here to recruit their fortunes and strengthen them- 
selves for a new campaign of folly and expense. This sys- 
tem of retrenchment may be conducted more successfully in 
Brussels than in any other city on the continent. Every- 



BRUSSELS. 247 

thing is abundant here, and everything is cheap. One of 
the causes of this is, that the Belgians have a cheap govern- 
ment ; but the main reason lies in the possession of a fine 
country and an agricultural population, who cultivate every 
portion of it to its highest mark. 

The city of Brussels was founded in 600; it has suffered 
many vicissitudes during its long history, and has been con- 
tinually passing into different hands, according to the pre- 
dominance of the great military powers which surround it. 
After having alternately suffered the control of the Dukes 
of Burgundy, the Kings of Spain, the House of Austria, the 
Crown of Britain, the Republic of France and the rule of the 
Netherlands, it passed finally with Belgium into the hands 
of Leopold J., at the crisis of 1830, and was made capital of 
the newly created kingdom. Since that time, the Belgians, 
who never knew before what it was to be a nation by them- 
selves, or have a government of their own, have been very 
proud of their new position and very favorable to their king. 
They flatter themselves, that though they lie in the direct 
road between France and the interior powers of the conti- 
nent, their country is no longer to be the common battle- 
ground of the great powers, and no more in danger of being 
made an outpost of the French Empire. 

Among the edifices of Brussels, the churches, as in all the 
continental cities except Paris, take the first rank. St. Gudule, 
the largest and finest, was built in 1010, and is chiefly memo- 
rable as the place where the first chapter of the chivalric order 
of the Golden Fleece w r as held by Philip the Good, in the year 
1435. Its style of architecture is Gothic, and from its large 
square towers the city of Antwerp can be distinguished, 
though distant twenty-seven miles. The inside of the church 
is very spacious, and against the great pillars which support 
the roofs are stationed finely sculptured pictures of the 



248 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

twelve apostles, each of gigantic size. The pulpit is a won- 
derfully executed carving in wood, of the size of life, repre- 
senting the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise. It is 
the masterpiece of an artist named Van Bruggen, and does 
high credit to his patience and his taste. The windows of 
the church are remarkable for the richness of their stained 
glass, and the main one presents a grand picture of the Last 
Judgment, by the celebrated Flemish painter, Francis Flors. 

The chief thing of interest in this church, however, lies in 
the oratory, or side chapel, called St. Sacrament des Miracles. 
In this, you are told, are deposited the three miraculous 
wafers that were stolen by the Jews in the fourteenth cen- 
tury, but miraculously preserved, notwithstanding all the 
attempts of the sacrilegious Hebrews to destroy them. The 
legend goes, that the Jews, wishing to exhibit their contempt 
for Christianity, seized upon the consecrated wafers which 
had been prepared for the ceremony of Good Friday, and 
spat upon them in the presence of those who were ready to 
receive them in solemn sacrament. Proceeding to still 
greater extremities, they struck their daggers into the wafers, 
when, of a sudden, blood burst forth from the wounds, and 
in the next moment the unbelievers were struck senseless to 
the ground. Taking heart at this rescue from Heaven, the 
Christian worshipers rose upon the blasphemers, and put 
them to death with the most cruel torments. 

Nay, the pious devotion of those excellent people did not 
stop even there. They directed their wrath upon the entire 
Hebrew race within the city, put hundreds of them to death, 
deflowered their daughters, and confiscated their property to 
the benefit of the church. In these retributions it is sup- 
posed that the priests of St. Gudule were the most active, 
because the most offended, but it is not stated to what branch 
of the visitation upon the Hebrew families they particularly 



THE MIRACULOUS WAFERS. 249 

devoted themselves. It has been said by some irreverent 
writers, who have no respect for miracles, that this affair of 
the wafers is all fabulous ; that the Jews were plundered with- 
out cause, and that the story was gotten up long subsequent 
to the outrage, as a justification of the bloody deed. But 
this statement is not enti-tled to any confidence, for in addi- 
tion to the assurances of my guide (who was a strict Catho- 
lic) of the truth of the entire legend, I purchased a little 
book from a venerable old priest on the spot, which con- 
tained an authorized version of the whole transaction. I 
might, however, have spared myself these references, by 
the mere mention of the fact that once a year, on the anni- 
versary of the sacrilege, a solemn procession of the priests 
of St. Gudule takes place through the streets of Brussels, in 
which are borne along the identical miraculous wafers now 
deposited in the oratory — a ceremony which I need not say 
to my intelligent readers is quite incompatible with any de- 
ception. 

The church next in importance to St. Gudule, is the cathe- 
dral of Our Lady of the Chapel ; it is not quite so large as 
the former, but it is filled with finer monuments and paint- 
ings, and contains a carved pulpit representing Elijah fed by 
the ravens, that is quite as curious as the expulsion of Adam 
and Eve. On the summit of the lofty spire of this church 
is perched a watchman, who sounds a trumpet every quarter 
of an hour as a signal that all is well, and who, whenever 
he detects a fire, gives alarm by one continuous blast. 
There are other fine churches, but they do not require a no- 
tice at my hands. 

There is one monument, however, which the observer of 
Brussels must not overlook, though he prize churches and 
museums and palaces ever so much, and that is the statue 
of the Mannikin Pis. This is a little bronze figure, situated 



IV 



250 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

at a corner near the center of the city, of a naked boy, who 
performs the office of a fountain, by discharging a stream 
of water in a natural manner. Great historical interest at- 
taches to this figure, and the people of Brussels regard it 
with the highest reverence, as having been instrumental at 
one time, in the protection of their city. The artistic execu- 
tion of the Mannikin is regarded by the critics as exquisite, 
and as to its character, it is quite as rational a palladium as 
that of ancient Troy. 

Brussels devotes herself to a large number of manufac- 
tures, but that in which she is most famous, is in the manu- 
facture of lace. In this she has no rival, and so proud is she 
of her proficiency, that she invites strangers to her work- 
shops to view the miracle of its production. The work is 
all done by female fingers, incessantly flying among little 
spools, on which is wound floss as tenuous as the spider's 
web. And there they sit, the movers of those fingers, 
twining and flinging the spools through each other from 
morning till night, shedding the light of their bright eyes 
out upon the intricacy of the pattern, until the day comes 
when they can see no more. Then they retire in a state of 
pauperism upon their families, or go to the institution for 
the blind. There is another branch of the manufacture, 
however, which is still more fatal to the eye than working 
on the patterns, and that branch is the preparation of the 
thread. To train the eye to a skill and sharpness requisite 
to the fineness of the thread, the workwomen are separately 
. placed in rooms which are pitch dark, save in the admission 
of a single streak of flight that is let in from a hole above. 
Under this small focus the flax is laid, and by minute atten- 
tion and the concentration of all her faculties, the poor 
laborer performs her work. In no Christian country is the 
penalty of crime so severe as this ; but these poor girls go 



ANTWERP. 251 

through it day by day, never murmuring, so they get their 
few shillings at the end of the week, and never dreaming of 
their right to any other destiny than to yield up their liberty 
and eyesight to adorn the shoulders of harlots and coquettes, 
and to enable coxcombs in political economy to spirt forth 
vain ecstacies on the elevating influence of the fine arts. 

On the following morning, after having enjoyed the luxury 
of a really good shave at the hands of a buxom lady of some 
thirty years of age, who came with her apparatus to my 
room, I walked to the rail-way station for Antwerp, paid 
seventy cents for my passage, and in an hour and a half 
thereafter, found myself safely deposited in the city of the 
Scheldt. 

The chief objects of attraction in Antwerp to the traveler 
of the present day, are its numerous paintings by the great 
Flemish masters, and its grand cathedral. The city itself, 
however, is rich in historical associations, and suggestive of 
a fund of thought as the scene of some of the most remark- 
able of the conflicts of the middle ages. In the sixteenth 
century it had reached the height of its prosperity, and was 
ranked as the great commercial mart of Europe. It had at 
that time a population of two hundred thousand souls, but 
the persecutions of Alva, the tiger who scourged all Flanders 
for opinion's sake, drove thousands of its best inhabitants to 
seek a refuge in other countries, where they could enjoy a 
toleration of their faith. The siege which followed a few 
years afterward, under the Duke of Parma, and which was 
rendered so memorable by the stubborn resistance of the 
defenders in the face of famine, also contributed to its de- 
cline, while the loss of the navigation of the Scheldt and 
the subsequent closing of that river by the peace of West- 
phalia in 1648, completed for a time its commercial ruin. 
For a long while it lay inert and torpid, but in the eighteenth 



252 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

century it took heart again, and at the time of its conquest 
by the French, was mistress of a reinstated commerce. 
Napoleon, appreciating the importance of its position, de- 
signed for it a destiny as brilliant as that of St. Petersburg or 
Carthage. He intended to make Antwerp the first seaport 
I and arsenal of the north, and to keep always under the pro- 
, tection of its guns a powerful fleet, which should be able to 
; command and overawe the mouth of the Thames. To this 
j end, he built immense stone quays along the margin of the 
j Scheldt, and constructed enormous docks and basins within 
! the line for the reception and protection of its peaceful 
j traders. In these works, and the improvement of its forts, 
! he expended the immense sum of fifty millions of francs, yet 
j the improvements were below the half of what he had de- 
II signed. It had been his intention to enclose the entire of a huge 
sandy plain, that lies on the west bank of the Scheldt, with 
fortifications, and to form it, with the right bank, into one 
vast city. " Antwerp," said he, while subsequently speak- 
ing on the subject at St. Helena ; " Antwerp should have 
rivaled London, and have been a province in itself." 

But this splendid destiny was wrested from the Flemish 
mart by the French disasters of 1814. The English trem- 
bled for the independence of the channel as every new stone 
was laid upon the Antwerp bastions, and one of the hard 
conditions of the Peace of Paris, was, that the dock-yards 
of the Scheldt should be demolished. This condition was 
put in force, and from the prospects of the ocean diadem, 
Antwerp sunk into despair. Two large basins were, how- 
ever, allowed to remain for the benefit of private shipping, 
and w r ere very serviceable in protecting vessels from the in- 
juries of the ice, which, during the winter, is continually 
floating down the river to the sea. The population of Ant- 



ANTWERP. 253 

werp at the present time, is between seventy and eighty 
thousand, but it has no prospect of a speedy increase. 

In works of art, however, Antwerp may be said to be as 
rich as in its most palmy days — perhaps richer, for the fine 
arts seem to have a tendency to accumulate upon decaying 
nations, as flowers often flourish most abundantly among the 
tombs. The principal of these works consist in paintings, 
and the names which distinguish them are those of Rubens, 
Vandyck, Teniers, Jordaens, Quentin Matzys, and others of 
less importance, but still of great report. In seeking these 
pictures out, however, the visitor is almost always disap- 
pointed, for they consist mainly of crucifixions, assumptions 
of the Virgin, scourgings of Christ, descents from the Cross, 
and all those sacred horrors which, by this time, the conti- 
nental traveler is well surfeited and disgusted with. The 
best feature of the exhibition is, that most of these paintings 
are to be found in the churches, and you are enabled, there- 
fore, to combine the observation of two classes of sights 
together. In the cathedral of Notre Dame, which boasts 
the loftiest spire in the Netherlands, you are shown the 
" Descent from the Cross," the famous masterpiece of Ru- 
bens. I had reserved myself for this picture, in the hope to 
experience an impression that would acquit me of insensi- 
bility to the great artist's powers, in the works of his that 
I had seen before. But it failed to please me. I was not 
so obtuse that I did not perceive undoubted merits in the 
composition and the coloring — merits which marked it as 
the production of no ordinary hand — but in it were re-pro- 
duced those eternal fat faces and pufTy bodies of his female 
beauties; while the face of Joseph of Arimathea, with its 
smooth, red, chubby cheeks, looked more like the visage of 
some epicurean Dutchman, ready to enter on a wager for 
eating sausages, than that of a character allotted for high per- 



254 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

formances in an inspired atmosphere. These incongruities 
discourage sentiment, and place us in the condition of guests 
at a strange dinner, when, instead of being able to enjoy a 
whole meal, we are obliged to push away most of the plates, 
and content ourselves with a leg or an arm. 

The English are very partial to the style of Rubens. His 
pictures are in all their galleries, and he enjoys as great a 
reputation in Britain as in Flanders. But with the Italians, 
his reputation is not so high. Their tastes are formed on a 
different standard of human beauty, and bright colors, and 
great tucks of fat, from the throat down, are at a discount 
in their appreciations. The difference of style in this respect 
is very striking between the paintings of the Dutch and 
Italian schools. The former is all bulk and muscle, and the 
latter is all delicacy and expression. None of the beauties 
of Rubens would weigh less than twelve stone ; while those 
of Guido, Raphael, Caravaggio, or Titian, are as delicate as 
the angels of a dream. The former seem to require three 
meals a day to keep up ; but the idea never enters your 
mind of the necessity of preparing supper for the latter, or 
of sending them to the scale. The most refined and ethereal 
symmetry distinguishes the Italian outlines, but every 
Madonna in Flanders is as veritable a Dutchwoman as ever 
expanded under the influence of sauer-kraut, or wore her hips 
above her middle. 



July, 1851. 

The Cathedrals of Europe — Liege — Veviers — Cologne. 

The Cathedral of Antwerp, in which I saw the paintings 
that were the subject of remark at the close of my last letter, 
is an object of great pride with the worthy citizens of that 
place, and they boast of the height and beauty of its spire, 
of its carvings and its chimes, with as much satisfaction as 
an American would dwell upon the institutions of his coun- 
try, or refer to the preponderance of its mercantile marine. 
The good people of Antwerp are not, however, the only ones 
in Europe who are lost in a similar infatuation for church 
steeples. About the first claim which a Londoner makes 
upon your admiration is in favor of St. Paul's and the size 
of its ball ; the citizens of Cologne will show you a cathedral 
which was six hundred years in building ; in Strasbourg they 
demand your wonder for a church founded in 504, with a 
spire 465 feet and 9 inches high; In Milan, the Duomo, 
with its 4000 full life statues, is claimed to be the finest 
structure in all Christendom ; Genoa boasts that her temples 
are most superb in gold and moldings ; while St. Peter's is 
shown by every Roman as a veritable wonder of the world. 
All of these places claim pre-eminence in the matter of their 
churches, and to judge by the vehemence with which each 



256 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

contends for superiority of spire, of age, of tradition, or of 
ornament, over its competitors, one would suppose they 
esteemed the fineness of their temples as vitally connected 
with their standing among mankind. This estimation is not 
entirely without reason, but it is rather a sediment of what 
has gone before, than present sense. 

In the rude ages, when the Church was imperial in intel- 
lect, she set up a control which reached equally the unlettered 
noble and the benighted serf. The humble received her 
ministrations with affection ; the rich were awed by her 
learning into respect. The universal expression towards her 
was that of profound reverence, and not a sovereign in 
Europe dared treat her mandates with a slight. Over all, 
she exercised an absolute spiritual sway. She dreaded no 
antagonist but knowledge, and she guarded against the 
advances of that enemy, by making herself the repository 
of letters and the arts. All were dependent on her for 
instruction as well as for spiritual consolation, and he who 
thirsted after knowledge must drink the infusion from her 
fountains, and divide the refreshment with the dogmas of 
her supremacy to temporal restraint. She represented not 
only the Pulpit and the Press, but everything but the 
Sword ; and woful was it with the warrior who struck with- 
out her counsel. In this state of things every church became 
a shrine, and knights and nobles paid deference to their 
altars with all the solemnities of regular pilgrimage. As 
this habit increased, the clergy of various cities and coun- 
tries entered into rivalship with each other. Some installed 
a saiut, and buried his body in the chancel ; others secured 
spikes from the true cross, or parings from an Apostle's 
nails; others again built grand edifices, reared tall spires, or 
made their temples famous with costly pictures or fine mar- 
bles. The common ambition of all was to turn the tide of 






ANTWERP. 257 

pilgrimages to their quarter, and not only to enrich their 
particular church and order with the presents of the pilgrims, 
but to enlarge the trade and revenue of their respective 
towns through the expenditures of pious travelers. 

The cathedrals I have named are a few evidences, among 
thousands, of the extent to which this pious emulation was 
carried, but the heat with which the disputes of superiority 
are still kept up, is now an empty folly, and entitled to 
scarcely more respect than a dispute among a lot of old 
women as to which of them retains the greatest share of at- 
tractions suitable for inviting the attention of youth. Out 
of respect for the dotage of Antwerp on this subject, how- 
ever, I have no objection to advertising that the spire of her 
cathedral is claimed to be 466 feet high, which is three inches 
higher than that of the rival cathedral at Strasbourg, and 
indeed, if the measurement be true, higher than any steeple 
in all Europe. It is likewise very rich in carvings of wood, 
a celebrated artist having been engaged for years in crown- 
ing the oaken seats in the chancel with most exquisite chis- 
selings, in representation of various saints. Many of these 
seats are still unoccupied with the oaken figures that are to 
preside over them, but the artist is young, and the order 
which he has received from the church will not occupy more 
than thirty years of his life. His genius, nay, his existence, 
may therefore be said to be purchased up by this cathedral, 
and when he dies, they can estimate his works to be worth 
as many thousands of pounds as they please, according to 
the common trick in Europe with those who wish to awe 
the world with a fictitious estimation of their wealth. 

The cathedral, besides these carvings, and the pictures of 
Rubens, has one or two good pictures by Quentin Metsys, 
the blacksmith of Antwerp, and in the street, near its great 
door, is situated a well, surmounted by a highly ornamental 



258 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

foliae ogf iron work, which was made by the famous master, 
before he had resigned the sledge for the easel. The story of 
the Blacksmith is familiar to all the citizens of Antwerp, and 
they dwell with much satisfaction on the triumph of the 
artizan in winning the daughter of the painter who scorned 
him, by the acquirement of even greater skill with the pencil, 
than was ever possessed by the father, who had despised 
him. There are other fine churches in Antwerp, which will 
well repay the visit of a traveler, and likewise a public 
museum that contains a very extensive gallery of the choicest 
paintings of the most celebrated Flemish masters, but it 
does not fall within the scope of my design to notice them. 
I do not, however, wish to pass by the " Crucifixion" of Ru- 
bens at this place, without estimating it as the best of his 
pictures, that I have seen, and without preferring it over 
the " Descent from the Cross," though the latter is re- 
garded as his masterpiece. 

The other features of Antwerp that are worth special ob- 
servation are its fortifications, which are immensely strong ; 
its botanical and zoological gardens, which are very well 
stocked ; its Place de Meer, or principal street, which rivals 
in width and architecture any street in Europe ; its brilliant 
looking-glass saloons where the stranger may drink schnapps 
and waltz with the floating beauty of the Scheldt without re- 
proach; and to return to holy matters, its physical repre- 
sentation of Calvary in the yard of the Dominican Church 
of St. Paul. There you may see Gethsemane and Olivet; 
avenues which bear statues of the most popular prophets ; 
the scene of the sweat and agony, and a representation of 
purgatory and the condemned souls within its flames. 
Finally, after these are shown you, you are led to the Holy 
Sepulchre, as copied from the one at Jerusalem, and looking 
through a grate, behold, in its dim light, the body of the 



MECHLIN. 259 

Savior, ghastly and wan, triced in the cerements of the grave, 
awaiting resurrection to the hands of a full sized pair of 
angels who watch beside him. There is something shocking 
in this last tableau, but the beholder is not able to decide, 
at once, whether he is moved by disgust or touched with awe. 

Having seen all the sights of Antwerp, and obviated the 
necessity of being dependent on others for attentions, I pre- 
sented letters which I had brought to the American Consul 
and others, and paid them my respects, without taxing them 
with trouble. I pursued this plan in all cases, and though I 
found it subjected me to the complaints of my good friends 
for having put it out of their power to do me a service, I felt 
better satisfied with myself in the end. It is not easy for a 
man to receive favor without losing a portion of his inde- 
pendence, and it is generally a better plan to see strange 
things by yourself, than to have your first impressions in- 
fluenced by the criticisms of old observers. 

I returned to Brussels from Antwerp, and on the morning 
following set out from the former city to Cologne. I found 
that the rail-road kept up the reputation of those I had seen 
before. The cars were as spacious, the guards were as po- 
lite, and the regulations were as prompt as in the best I had 
seen. At a quarter past eleven o'clock precisely, the prin- 
cipal conductor sounded a bugle which hung at his side, and 
away we went, entering on top speed almost from the score. 
In twenty-five minutes running time we arrived at Mechlin, 
or Malines, as it is called among the French, the name of 
which is familiar to most readers for its manufacture of 
shawls and lace. As it is viewed from the rail-road station 
its appearance is very antiquated and quaint. Grotesque 
looking houses are seen in all directions, and from the centre 
of the flat picture looms up the tower of a great cathedral to 
the height of 870 feet. The original design of this steeple 



260 



EUROPE IN A HURRY. 



would have carried it to the enormous height of 640 feet, 
but wars and domestic confusions perverted the revenues of 
the church, and during the four centuries which have elapsed 
since its foundation, it has acquired no greater altitude than 
the cross and ball of St. Paul's, in London. Doubtless this 
has been a source of deep grief to the people of Mechlin, 
but they find consolation in claiming that its spire is the 
richest morisco tower in the world. The city is the seat of 
an archbishop, who is the primate of Belgium ; it has a 
palace, a cannon foundry, and according to Murray, it 
makes a dish out of pigs' feet, ears and other trifles of that 
sort, which is very famous among French and German epi- 
cures, under the title of " a Malines breakfast." For this, 
I have no doubt, Malines obtains more respect and repu- 
tation on the continent, than for any other point of its 
character. 

At half-past twelve we passed Tirlement, once a prominent 
walled city of the middle ages, but now reduced to eight 
thousand population, and at half-past two arrived at the re- 
nowned city of Liege. The appearance of this city is very 
imposing after the quiet and sedate German towns which, at 
this stage of your journey, you have become familiar with. 
It sits in a valley or bowl at the junction of the rivers Ourthe 
and Meuse, and from its thousands of roofs rises a din of 
labor and a canopy of smoke, that reminds you of Birming- 
ham or Pittsburg. Historically, Liege is the most famous 
city in Belgium, and if we date only from the middle ages, 
yields in true renown to none of the towns of Europe. It 
is the capital of the country of the Walloons, and as early 
as the tenth century its bishops ranked as independent 
princes. The people, too, have always been celebrated for 
a spirit which, though termed stubborn and mutinous in the 
middle ages, we now recognize as manly and independent. 



LIEGE VEVIERS. 261 

The population of Liege is about 120,000 or 130,000, one- 
half of which, however, is situated in the suburbs, or what 
is considered as out of the town limits. Its streets are nar- 
row and dirty, but they present a bustling appearance, and 
redeem their dirt by showing reasons for it. Its chief manu- 
facture is that of fire-arms and cannon, and it is said to be 
able to produce all articles of that sort cheaper even than 
they can be manufactured in England. It is to be hoped 
its people may never lose their character for being " turbu- 
lent " and " mutinous," until monarchy is blotted from their 
system ; and it also is to be hoped that the day will come 
when they will turn the terrible cannon they construct upon 
their hereditary oppressors, with as much good will and pur- 
pose, as of yore their ancestors used their cross-bows against 
Louis of Bourbon and Charles the Bald. 

The next place of importance on the road to Cologne, is 
Veviers, a city of some thirty thousand inhabitants, with a 
large suburban population. This place is devoted mainly 
to cloth manufacture, in which it employs some fifty thou- 
sand hands, who work from twelve to fifteen hours a day, 
and who are drilled to as close a discipline as the convicts 
in a prison, or slaves at an oar. A few work in their houses, 
but the greater number labor in large shops, the various 
lofts of which are filled with men and women, who seldom 
look up from their looms, and who never venture to speak, 
except by the permission of the overseer. This silent sys- 
tem is terrible to the mind as well as body ; but there is no 
power on the part of the oppressed to resist, for a discharge 
from an establishment is a condemnation to pauperism and 
starvation, since, according to a convention among the em- 
ployers, none will hire a man whom another has turned off. 
This, of course, reduces the working classes to absolute vas- 
salage, and wherever such a regulation exists, they may be 



262 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

said to breathe only by the sufferance of their employers. 
Attempts have been made at different times by certain 
manufacturers, to introduce this system among us, but the 
atrocious project has always been defeated with infamy to 
the inventors. The working people of Veviers, those at 
least who labor in the factories, are remarkable for their 
downcast look, and the first curse seems to be written in 
heavy lines upon their brows. They go along like men with- 
out hope, as if life were a penalty, and the only expiration 
of their terms of condemnation were to arrive with death. 
" Ah ! if these poor people could but see an American me- 
chanic, with his bright eye, erect head and proud and cheer- 
ful carriage, they would understand the value of liberty at 
a glance, and increase their hours of toil till they could earn 
enough to enable them to escape into an atmosphere where 
they may breathe and live." 

11 They have one good institution here, however," said a 
fellow-traveler, in reply to this exclamation of mine; "the 
wealthy have established a place where women who go out 
to clays' work can leave their infants in the morning, return- 
ing to suckle them at noon, and take them away at night." 

"And do you think that a good institution'?" said I. 

" I do," said my companion ; " I think it a great advantage, 
and very humane, too !" 

" Well, God forbid that the practice should ever be intro- 
duced into our country," said I. " I regard it as a mere 
artifice on the part of the rich, to multiply labor and to sub- 
sidize to their service everything that has a pair of hands, 
except the infant in arms. It is a mere trick to yoke the 
mother, and I see nothing humane in it." 

The rail-road from Liege to Aix la Chapel le, runs for the 
most part through a country very much perplexed with hills 
and valleys, beautiful to the eye, but perverse and puzzling 



AIX LA CHAPELLE TO COLOGNE. 263 

to the grade. There are no less than nineteen tunnels in a 
distance of some thirty or forty miles, and the whole cost 
of the road between the two above named places, amounted 
to the immense sum of twenty-five millions of francs. On 
approaching the Prussian frontier, the train is stopped at a 
little town named Hebersthal, if I recollect aright, and the 
cars are visited by an agent of the Prussian police, who de- 
mands a passport from every passenger, whether native or 
foreign, and who will oblige every one to stop there who has 
none. He carries these passports off with him, and in a 
few minutes the train starts, leaving you in a very queer 
state of uncertainty whether you will ever again set your 
eyes on the document which you have been taught is your 
only protection from arrest and surveillance in a strange 
land. By-and-by, however, you arrive at another little town 
on the frontier, and there pass from the cars to a small 
bureau in the station, where you wait to hear your name 
called out in routine ; upon which you recover your pass- 
port, with the addition of a new vise or endorsement of its 
regularity. 

I did not stop at Aix la Chapelle, but proceeded straight 
from Veviers to Cologne, running, towards the end of the 
day, through a flat, drowsy-looking country, diversified only 
now and then by a windmill, or by pictures of women work- 
ing at the glebe, or helping to make brick by the road-side. 
At eight o'clock I arrived at the famous city of Cologne, and 
having recovered my baggage, which the officers of the cus- 
toms were polite enough to pass without examination, I took 
my seat in a diligence, and was soon set down at a hotel, the 
name of which I am very glad to be able to forget. I wish 
I could also forget all recollection of its physical character- 
istics, for notwithstanding its fine size, excellent location, and 
ostentatious corps of attendants at the portal, it was the 



264 EUROPEIN A HURRY. 

dirtiest place it was ever my misfortune to get aground in. 
Indeed, the whole city is filthy in the last degree, and the 
instant you enter it your nose is assailed by all the vile 
odors that are possible to decaying combinations. It is not 
surprising, therefore, that the inhabitants should be pre- 
eminent in the manufacture of a perfumed water — for surely 
necessity must have spurred their ingenuity to its highest 
development on this subject. 

In no place can eau de Cologne be of half the practical 
value that it possesses in the place where it is made, and if 
it is to be estimated here according to the scope for its use, 
its manufacture should rank as a science. I thought of apply- 
ing for a bottle immediately on my arrival, but being 
fatigued and thirsty, I chose first to order tea. It is a 
very ordinary thing for a thirsty traveler to order tea when 
he arrives at the close of day at a hotel, and an equally 
ordinary thing for him to drink it, but it is not usual for him 
to be required to make it for himself — at least, it had not 
been so with me before. Such is the custom, however, on 
the continent, but the custom arises from the same descrip- 
tion of suspicion which induces travelers to look after their 
horses, to see that the groom does not cheat them in their pro- 
vender. To exhibit fair dealing, therefore, the hotel-keepers 
of Cologne and other places throughout the continent, set 
before you an urn of boiling water, with a light under it, an 
empty tea-pot, and a case of tea, from which you select quan- 
tity and quality at your pleasure. Not being entirely defi- 
cient in the science of this composition, in consequence of 
early observation, I made a decoction to suit me, and having 
disposed of it, called a waiter, and directed him to send me 
a valet de place. In a few minutes I was waited upon by a 
very slick-looking fellow, with an almond-shaped head, small 
greenish eyes, a mouth curved like a jumping-hoop by a con- 



COLOGNE. 265 

tinual smirk, and a chin so sharp and long that, in case he 
suffered martyrdom, a friend might have planted his head 
beside him as he would a pike, to indicate the spot beyond 
which he, as a follower, would not retire, in contending for 
She faith. This genius carried in his hand a very slick hat, 
which he fondly stroked with a soft and oily-looking hand, 
as a man would touch anything for which he had the most 
tender affection. His plain, queer suit of black, seemed to 
have been designed for him by nature, and the white cravat 
which surmounted it, swathed his thin neck as naturally as 
a set of beads would decorate a friar. His very cheek 
looked silken and shiny, and as he bowed and smiled, it 
seemed as if he w r ere about to glide inside of me, beyond 
peradventure of resistance or a ripple. I set him down at 
once as one of the government spies, who practice the voca- 
tion of a valet to facilitate their secret purposes ; but being 
indifferent on this subject, and wanting him but for a special 
purpose, I accepted him, and sallied out to see the town. 



12 



Cologne, July, 1851. 

Legend of the Dom Kirche — The Eleven Thousand Virgins. 

The streets of Cologne present no matter for observation 
at night, for the shops close early after dark, and at hours 
when Paris, London, and New York are in a blaze of light, 
you grope about in close and stifling lanes, and see nothing 
above or around you but queer buttresses and overhanging 
gables, that threaten continually to surge together and crush 
you in their meeting. I therefore did not keep the services 
of my smooth guide long in requisition, but after half an 
hour's walk returned to my hotel, for a good sleep and an 
early campaign in the morning. Unfortunately, however, 
for the first of these hopes, my room was located over a 
stable, which sent its fumes through my curtains, and the 
next chamber was occupied by a gaming party who drank 
and swore, and discharged their knuckles on the table as 
they played down their trump cards, in a manner that 
claimed half my wide awake attention and half my dreams. 
At length towards morning I became desperate, and got up 
and wrote an article for the National Police Gazette. This 
had the effect of tranquilizing my nerves, and perhaps also 
of putting the revelers in the next room to sleep, so that I 
got a lease of repose till the sun was well up in the sky. 



COLOGNE 



267 



I then perceived that the Rhine was under my windows ; 
spanning it on my left hand was a long bridge of boats, and 
spreading on the opposite bank, in most picturesque ar- 
rangement, were the houses and steeples of the little town 
of Deutz, a miniature dependence, bearing the relation of 
Brooklyn to New York. 

Cologne, however, though the most important and wealth- 
iest city on the Rhine, makes the large end of the above 
comparison but a feeble example of our mighty metropolis, 
for its full population is not more than eighty thousand 
souls ; while Deutz brings her portion of the illustration to 
not above one-tenth of Brooklyn. But the interest of Co- 
logne does not depend upon its size. Its antiquity, which 
elates back to the time of the Romans; its history, which is 
dignified by battles, sieges, and the frequent issue of thirty 
thousand warriors from its walls; and its relics, as well of 
grandeur as of holiness, make it inviting to the traveler and 
precious to the antiquary. It is particularly welcome to 
the tourist as the first place where he meets the Rhine. And 
as he gazes upon the bosom of that " exulting and abound- 
ing river," the fame of which is mixed with the earliest 
visions of his mind, or turns back his view upon the city 
and reflects it was there the mother of Nero established the 
altars of the Olympian Gods, (to be superseded by a faith 
which ultimately boasted a Christian spire for every day in 
the week) he feels that he has entered fairly upon a sanc- 
tuary of the past, and that every footstep is pregnant with a 
lesson. Indeed, there is so much more to be enjoyed than 
can be described, that a writer who has only room for 
sketches must content himself with such general features as 
stand boldly out. 

Boldest of all, and deserving chief estimation as a type 
of the grandeur of its ecclesiastical domination, is the Cathe- 



268 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

dral, or Dom Kirche, the foundations of which were laid in 
1248, and which, had it been completed, would not only have 
ranked as the St. Peter's of Gothic architecture, but would 
have been worthy of a city which aspired to the title of the 
"Rome of the North." "Even in its present state," says 
Murray's hand-book, " it is one of the finest and purest 
Gothic monuments in Europe. It is to be regretted that 
the name of the great architect who designed it has escaped 
from the knowledge of the world. One Master Gerhard, 
who was living in 1252, is the builder earliest named, but 
nothing is known even of him. The two principal towers, 
according to the original designs, were to have been raised 
to the height of five hundred feet, though that which is fin- 
ished at present, is not above one-third the height. On the 
top still remains the crane employed by the masons to raise 
the stones for the building, and it has stood for centuries. 
It was once taken down, but a tremendous thunder-storm 
which occurred soon after, was attributed to its removal by 
the superstitious citizens, and it was therefore instantly 
replaced, or a similar one put up in its stead." This crane 
is still on the top of the unfinished tower, and I recognized 
it as a signal, when I was approaching the city, of a building 
in progression. I am inclined to think that the crane* was 
always kept on the top by the monks, rather as a declara- 
tion that they had not abandoned their ideas of completing 
the structure, than as a charm against the Devil. It is quite 
likely, however, that they accepted the accident referred to 
as an auxiliary argument, and strengthened their plans with 
the authority of a miracle. 

The church as it now stands consists of two parts — the 
choir at one end, and the main porch at the other. These 
were entirely separated and detached from each other for 
centuries, but large grants from the kings of Prussia of late 



GEND OF THE DOM KIRCHE. 



269 



years, have raised the porch to an elevation which has allowed 
a temporary wooden roof to be laid between it and the nave, 
and now we see the entire length and scope of the building, 
as it is to be when finished. The present king of Prussia 
continues the grant of money, and under his pious aid three 
hundred and fifty workmen are busily engaged in repairing 
the old and adding to the new. It is estimated that if this 
number keep on, and two millions of dollars be furnished for 
the nave and three millions for the towers and facade, the 
work may be completed according to the original design in 
about fifty years. 

About this original design, which is still shown here, there 
is a strange story, which shows the superstitious tendency of 
the German mind ; and which, as it was told me with great 
patience by my guide, I will briefly notice. 

Tt was in the reign of Conrad, the pious and puissant 
Archbishop of Cologne, that the Cathedral was first thought 
of. His Reverence, though the most powerful prince of his 
order, and though his churches were the most numerous, 
and much the richest in sacred relics, gave himself up to fre- 
quent grief, that other towns not half so large, possessed 
cathedrals which were famous all over Europe, and drew 
pilgrims by thousands to their shrines. After much tribu- 
lation and more earnest prayers than could be expected 
from an Archbishop who employed so many priests to pray 
in his stead, he was visited with an idea, and straightway 
sent for the most celebrated architect known in his parts, 
and directed him to devise a plan for a cathedral of Cologne 
which should exceed in grandeur all other religious edifices 
in the world. The artist took the commission and set him- 
self to work, but so deeply had the Archbishop impressed 
him with the magnificence of his desires, that his drawings 
were continually inadequate, and as fast as he made them 



270 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

he would feel compelled to rub them out. Finally, one 
night, tired, vexed, and perplexed, he threw himself upon 
his bed, and though nervous and irritated beyond the hope 
of sudden rest, he sunk into a deep sleep, and dreamed a 
dream. 

In the mythical vapor of that mental vision rose lofty 
towers of surpassing grandeur ; brave angles protruded one 
after another from the clouds which had previously muffled 
his perceptions ; piers and purfled windows ; arches, chap- 
els, flying buttresses, and a choir whose majestic parts 
seemed worthy of the worship of archangels, floated into 
the airy structure, until a unity of beauty and sublime 
effect stood finished to the mind with so sharp a shape, that 
the rapture broke his sleep, and he started to the floor to 
snatch the illusive model with his hand. It fled him ; and 
when he rapidly sat down to sketch the brilliant recollection, 
he found nothing remaining but an overpowering sense of 
the grandeur of his dream. Several days passed in which 
he repeated his efforts, and as repeatedly sank in despair. 
At length, utterly discouraged, he directed his footsteps to 
the Rhine, with the intention of seeking rest for his troubled 
thoughts in the oblivion of its waves. When he arrived 
upon the bank, however, he saw a man sitting with his back 
towards him, apparently buried in profound reflection, and 
engaged while thus bent, in listlessly tracing figures in the 
sand with a cane. There was something in the stranger's 
appearance that involuntarily made the architect draw near 
him, and look over his shoulder. To his astonishment, he 
there beheld in the faint rifts which the stick of the Unknown 
had marked in the sand, the gorgeous pinnacles and mighty 
towers which had reared themselves to his own imagination 
in the dream. He uttered an exclamation of joy, but as 
he stepped forward, the Unknown drew his stick through 



LEGEND OF THE DOM KIRCH 



271 



the tracery with a spiral motion that obliterated all propor- 
tion, and again plunged the artist in despair. What has 
been done once, however, thought the architect, may be 
done again, and addressing the stranger, he offered him 
twenty broad gold pieces for his plan. The Unknown 
turned full upon the artist, and laughing coldly in his face, 
drew from his doublet, which seemed too scant to cover half 
its bulk, a bag containing a thousand such gold pieces, as if 
to say that money was no price. 

" How then may I obtain it V said the artist. 

" By signing this with your blood," said the Unknown, 
pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket, at the same 
time piercing the artist with a stony stare. 

The unhappy architect shook as with an ague under that 
freezing look. He then knew the tempter ; but summoning 
courage, he made the sign of the cross and bade the Evil 
One avaunt. It was now the time for the Unknown to 
cower. He was vanquished by the holy symbol. The 
sand whirled for a moment at the artist's feet ; the figure 
of the stranger vanished within its column, but as it passed 
away, a voice exclaimed hoarsely from its midst, (| You '11 
come for the plan to-morrow at midnight !" The architect 
staggered home more dead than alive, and by the advice of 
his housekeeper, went to his confessor, who sent him at once 
to the Archbishop. His Holiness felt the responsibility of 
having got the architect into the scrape, and consequently, 
like any man of principle, felt it incumbent to get him out 
of it. Nevertheless, he wanted the plan, and was loth to 
take such positive measures with the Devil as would defeat 
the chance of getting it. 

" Could you build a cathedral according to the Tempter's 
design?" said the Archbishop, after he had revolved the 
magnificent description several times over in his mind. 



272 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

" I could," said the architect. 

"And would not pilgrims come to worship at such a 
shrine V continued his Holiness. 

" By the thousand," replied the architect. 

" Then go at midnight, my son," concluded the Arch- 
bishop, laying his hand paternally upon the artist's shoulder, 
" and take this relic with you," added he, pulling a holy 
morsel of one of St. Ursula's eleven thousand virgins from 
a pocket in his cassock. " Agree to the demon's terms, 
procure the precious plan, and when he presents the paper 
for your signature, cry ' Avaunt thee, Sathanas !' as lustily 
as you may, and oppose him with this sacred bone." 

With much trembling in his legs, but with a very firm 
heart, the architect went to meet the fiend. The fiend was 
on the spot, according to his custom when he makes appoint- 
ments, and as the clock pealed forth the last stroke of the 
midnight hour, he presented the plan with one hand, and a 
bond written in a phosphoric character, with a yellow, sul- 
phury-looking blank for a signature, with the other. 

" Let me see that the plan is the correct one," said the 
architect. 

"Certainly," said the devil, with a politeness that did 
him a great deal of credit, considering his mode of life. 

The architect seized the plan, and pressing it to his heart, 
he held up the bone of one of the eleven thousand virgins, 
as a charm for its protection. The Devil made a grab to 
regain his treasure, but he could not pass the mystic influ- 
ence of the holy relic ; neither could he confront the sign 
of the cross which the artist cut with it in the air. The 
Devil tried to evade the sacred symbol, by jumping from 
side to side ; but the architect jumped as fast as he did, 
never ceasing to brandish the morsel of virginity continually 
in his face. But the odds against Lucifer were too terrible 



LEGEND OF THE DOM KIECHE. 273 

for the contest to last long ; he was pierced to the core by 
every new shout of the anathema, and finally, when the 
artist called upon the name of the virgin of virgins, St. 
Ursula herself, Lucifer gave up the fight, with a shriek that 
awoke half the sleepers of Cologne. 

11 None but an Archbishop could have counseled you to 
such rascality as this !" said his subterranean Eminence, 
with a horrible grin ; " but I'll be avenged. You have 
obtained the most perfect plan of a cathedral, known to 
the world, it is true, but # you will not gain for yourself the 
fame that you most want, no/ will the priest who counseled 
you gain his pilgrims and his shrine. That cathedral never 
shall be finished, and your name shall be forgotten !" 

As he spoke, the doublet of the demon expanded into 
huge black wings, that fluttered over the spot like thunder 
clouds, and with such violence did they wave, that they 
raised a storm on the waters of the Rhine. Holding the 
relic over his head, the terrified architect rushed home with 
his prize, with the ominous words ringing in his ears — 
"unfinished and unknown!" 

The cathedral was commenced with vigor, and soon grew 
into form, but when one day the architect went to the top, 
to select a place to have his name inscribed, in order to de- 
feat the malediction of the demon, a storm suddenly arose, 
a thunder pall descended on the tower, a wail of agony was 
heard by the workmen, in which were distinguished the 
words, "unfinished and unknown I" and when the cloud rose, 
their master was gone forever. 

" And the building never has been finished," said I, mus- 
ingly, by way of approbation of the story. 

" No, Monsieur," replied my guide, "and the common 
notion is, that it never will be." 

" I perceive, however," said I, pointing to the workshops, 



274 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 



- 



" that the fathers of the church do not intend to take the 
Devil's word for it." 

" No, that would be too great a scandal," was the answer 
I received ; but my inward comment was, that it was a 
greater scandal to rob the Devil, and then build a cathedral 
on his plan. 

Inside, the church is well worthy of attention ; but I do 
not propose to notice it further than as the receptacle of the 
tombs of several of the archbishops, carved in state, and also 
as the depository of the celebrated shrine of the three kings 
of Cologne, or the Magi, who came with presents from the 
East, at the time of the nativity, to join the shepherds in 
their admiration of the infant Savior. This chapel and this 
tomb is a very rich receptacle. The coffin which holds the 
sacred relics is of silver gilt, inlaid with precious stones. 
The names of the royal worshipers are written in their 
skulls, in letters composed with rubies, while crowns of 
jewels rest upon their bony brows. The tomb is in the 
charge of a custodian, who shows it to parties at the charge 
of some five or six francs, and, according to his account, the 
shrine, though deprived of many of its jewels at the time 
of its removal to Arnsberg, during the French invasion, is 
still worth six millions of francs. The other relics of the 
church are, a bone of the apostle St. Matthew, the heart of 
Mary de Medicis, and St. Englebert's silver shrine. 

The next object of interest to the sight-seer in the city of 
Cologne, is the "Church of St. Ursula, and of the Eleven 
Thousand Virgins." The legend of this saintly lady and her 
maiden troop will be recollected by the devout as well as 
the curious reader. She was the daughter of one of the 
early British kings, and, obdurate against all ideas of mar- 
riage, conceived the design of devoting herself entirely to 
the service of God. A vision, however, told her she must 



THE ELEVEN THOUSAND VIRGINS. 275 

espouse a German prince ; and previous to the nuptials, she 
collected a band of maidens about her, and announced her 
intention of making a pilgrimage to Rome. The maidens 
accompanied her, to the number of eleven thousand. They 
discharged the sailors before embarking, and worked the 
ship themselves. Despite of all storms, they finally made 
the Rhine, and were carried as far up as the city of Cologne. 
There Ursula met her betrothed, and together, followed by 
their train, they went to Rome. So taken was the Pope 
with St. Ursula and her suite, that he accompanied them 
back to Germany ; but, alas ! shortly after he left them, and 
just as they had settled comfortably in Cologne, there came 
upon the city an army of the Huns, who forced the walls, 
and took possession of the town. In the warfare of that 
age, women were never overlooked among the spoils of con- 
quest ; and if history is to be relied on in relation to the 
Huns, they were gentlemen whose propensities for such 
avails were bound by no limit except the limit of their prizes. 
Eleven thousand virgins, all in one batch — an amount of 
virginity never heard of before, and scarcely conceivable at 
present — might be supposed to have created as great a sen- 
sation in the barbarian camp as it would have done in a 
Christian one, and a proposal was at once made on the part 
of the barbarian commander, in behalf of the whole army, 
to St. Ursula and her troupe, that was quite shocking even 
to think of. The proposal was, of course, rejected with 
maiden indignation, and persisted in so resolutely, that finally 
the Huns, losing all patience, slaughtered the whole party, 
in revenge for their stubborn chastity. The virgin martyrs 
were buried on the spot which saw their sacrifice ; but, in 
after years, the pious reared a church upon the scene of 
slaughter, and, disinterring the bones, piled them up in all 
quarters of the edifice. 



276 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

There is no disputing the truth of this circumstance. On 
the walls and ceilings, in side chapels and in glass cases, are 
quantities of these hideous remains, and those who are 
skilled in physiology may detect in many of the relics un- 
mistakable evidences of their female character. It has been 
contended by some who have been staggered by the vast 
extent of Ursula's maiden train, that the original translator 
of the legend confounded the name of one of her principal 
attendants (Undecemilla) with that of the number of the 
troupe ; but I was assured by my guide that there was no 
foundation for that suspicion, and having engaged to pay him 
a dollar a day for his information, it would have been money 
thrown away to have doubted the story. St. Ursula herself 
reposes behind the altar ; and in a side room, called the 
Golden Chamber, may be seen the skulls and arm-bones of 
several of her staff. In this chamber is also deposited one 
of the stone vessels which, according to the friar in attend- 
ance, was used by the Savior at the marriage feast at Cana, 
when he performed his transformation of water into wine. 
I also saw there a link of St. Peter's chain, which fell apart 
with the others, when the angel summoned him from prison. 
It is very refreshing to behold these proofs of the miracles 
of Scripture, and it would be well for those who are inclined 
to cavil, to visit this part of the world, and end their skep- 
ticism by putting their hands upon the jar, and hefting the 
link of the disjointed chain. 

From the church of St. Ursula, I went to that of St. 
Peter, which contains the famous altar piece of Rubens, of 
the crucifixion of the elder apostle, with his head down- 
wards ; next, to a fine botanical garden filled with all kinds 
of plants ; next to a Roman ruin, and finally to a Prussian 
review, in what I was told was the great square of the place. 
The number of the soldiers amounted only to a single regi- 



COLOGNE. 277 

ment, but they made a fine show, and were accompanied by 
a band of the most accomplished musicians. Their uniforms 
are very tasty, and their caps, which are helmet-shaped, are 
much more graceful than those of the French or English. 
In personal condition, however, they are no better off. They 
are drafted under the arbitrary law of conscription, being 
liable between the ages of twenty and twenty-three, and 
their pay amounts to but two and a-half groshen per day; 
equivalent to about six cents of our money. Out of this 
amount they are obliged to find themselves in food, with the 
exception of a ration of six pounds of black bread, which is 
doled out to them every fifth day. The whole day's pay is 
consumed, of course, in a single meal, and those of them 
who are not fortunate enough to have a liberal sweetheart 
or some comfortable friend, frequently go to bed with empty 
stomachs. Indeed, so inadequate is the allowance of the gov- 
ernment, that parents and relatives look upon a young man 
who is called into service as ruined, for the time, and meet 
together to contribute to his support, as if he were a pauper. 
The soldiers themselves, the majority of whom have no out- 
side resources, are continually wishing for war, in order that 
while they are cutting a few throats, they may enjoy the 
abundance of camp fare. More than a million of men are 
living, in Europe, in this kind of way, and the wonder of it 
is, that they do it at the command of a few persons whom 
they hate, to keep down thousands of themselves, whom 
they love. 



July, 1851. 

Bonn — The Mummies of Kreutzberg — The Rhine and its 
Legends. 

Though Cologne is the place where the tourist strikes the 
Rhine, it is not usually selected as the point of embarkation 
by the traveler of pleasure. This proceeds from the fact, 
that for the first twenty miles, the ascent of the stream is 
flat and uninteresting ; and partly also from the fact that a 
fine rail-road conveys you inland to the handsome little 
town of Bonn, where the real beauties of the river begin. 
You take the rail-road at any hour in the day, arrive at 
Bonn and get a good sleep at night, and then after a com- 
fortable breakfast, the boat arrives from Cologne and you 
pursue your journey up the stream. I left Cologne under 
the charge of my jesuitical-looking courier, a little after 
dinner, and being very comfortable from the effects of a 
hearty meal, I indulged myself in a siesta until 1 had flown 
the entire eighteen miles that stretch between station and 
station. Indeed, I don't know how long I might have slept, 
had I not been roused on my arrival by my guide ; who, I 
could perceive, by the smile which appeared on the faces of 
my fellow passengers, had proceeded from point to point of 
gentle summons, until his first cat-like touch upon my 



BONN. 279 

shoulder had grown to an actual shake. Under his advice, 
or rather by his orders, for I had resigned myself entirely 
into his hands, as any wise man would have done after listen- 
ing to his version of the eleven thousand virgins, I was driven 
to a hotel well entitled the Hotel de Bellevue, and without any 
agency of my own, provided with a fine chamber which spread 
the glistening river at my feet, and gave me a view of the 
Seibengebirge or Seven Mountains, and the famous Drachen- 
fels in the distance. 

Having refreshed myself in the style most approved by 
travelers who have been asleep upon a dusty road, my valet 
inquired if I would not ride and see the town, and, being com- 
missioned by a nod of affirmation, he departed to order such 
a vehicle as he considered proper to my state. I ought to 
have felt very much flattered by his estimation of me, if his 
conduct in this matter was a test, for he brought me an 
establishment that seemed fitted rather to the ostentation 
of a Prince, than to the wants of a plain easy going man like 
me, whose least idea, on this occasion, was to make a show. 
The vehicle was a magnificent barouche, with gold mountings. 
It was lined with rich figured silk, and over its cushions was 
thrown a veil of fresh rose-colored gauze, to ward the contact 
and protect it from the dust. The horses were stately chest- 
nut studs — of I don't know how many hands high — tricked 
out with rosettes and golden chains ; while the coachman 
was the most showy circumstance of all. He was laced and 
trimmed from head to foot. His white coat was faced with 
gold ; it was laced in front, it was laced behind ; his breast 
was covered with festoons of gilded braid like the breast of a 
field marshal ; on one shoulder he carried an epaulette, and 
to cap the climax, he wore a black cockade in his hat. I was 
staggered at this brave display, and for an instant drew back 
as if doubtful if so much parade were meant for me. My 



2S0 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

man, mistaking my movement, stepped forward at this junc- 
ture, and claimed my approbation for having secured the 
establishment at the rate of four francs the hour, notwith- 
standing the established price was five. This quieted me. 
I found that a man could ride like a Prince in Bonn, at 
twenty cents the hour less than he could enjoy the same 
luxury in Broadway, and satisfied that I was not indulging 
in what looked like a mere wanton and foolish piece of ex- 
travagance for a single traveler, I took my seat, the valet 
mounted the box beside the embroidered coachman, and 
with a very fine flourish of the whip, we drove off. I could 
not help smile at my situation, however, as I went through 
Bonn with these two fellows perched before me, the valet 
with his arms folded and looking as he were undergoing a 
professional review before a commission of valets ; and the 
coachman with the whip slanting rakishly before him, while 
his head maintained all the severer dignity due to the 
epaulette and the cockade. It struck me very strangely, as 
I rode along, that the dogs should have the audacity to bark 
at such an imposing looking personage; nevertheless, every 
now and then a batch of rascally curs would tear out in the 
road and have their privilege of anger, as if he were the most 
unimportant fellow in the world. Dogs are sad Jacobins, 
but it is due to my coachman to state that he paid no atten- 
tion to their criticisms. 

The town of Bonn is the birth-place of Bethooven, the 
composer. It was formerly the seat of the electors of 
Cologne, but it now owes its chief celebrity to its Univer- 
sity. This institution had the credit (if such it be) of edu- 
cating Prince Albert. It is situated in the extensive old 
palace of the Electors, has a library of one hundred thousand 
volumes, and numbers fifteen hundred students, most of 
whom are drawn from the highest aristocracy of Europe. 



THE MUMMIES OF KREUTZBERG. 281 

The town itself rates at sixteen thousand inhabitants; it is 
for the most part regularly built, and, in situation, is one of 
the most pleasant on the Rhine. Like Brussels, it is a very 
favorite residence of English, and it also has a fine society 
of German families, who choose to reside here, in order that 
they may supervise the education of their future heirs and 
representatives. I noticed in my drive many beautiful and 
gracefully dressed ladies, while of the other sex enough be- 
trayed that easy style which belongs to knowledge of the 
world, or conscious independence. Indeed, the style of every- 
thing was metropolitan ; and were it not that you could span 
the boundaries with your eye, you might suppose you were 
in the suburb of a great city. 

The chief direction of my drive was to an old church, 
situated on top of a hill called Kreutzberg, about two miles 
from town. The attractions of this spot are, first, the view 
which it commands of the Seven Mountains and surround- 
ing country, and next, the holy relics of the church. The 
most peculiar of these are the mummies of twenty-five old 
monks who lie buried in the crypt, and who, despite of time 
and the worm, maintain their bodies (though shriveled) 
undecayed. The person in attendance, upon a signification 
of your curiosity, lights a candle or a torch, and leads you 
through a trap-door in the body of the church, down to the 
vaults. There, in that gloomy pit, lie the old friars, side 
by side, in open coffins, wearing both gown and cowl, but 
sadly shrunk from their sleek living shape, when they per- 
formed good works, among the fat and abundance of the 
earth. They owe their preservation to a natural dryness of 
the soil, and thus have reaped the happy destiny of contri- 
buting to the support of the church, even long after their 
decease. Few masses need be said for their repose, for they 
have amply paid their way through purgatory, by the fees 



282 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

given to look at their remains, and doubtless enjoy the 
reward of a perpetuity of good deeds. Some of them pre- 
sent a ludicrous appearance, and some a hideous one — the 
drying process having drawn their features out of shape, and 
made them appear either laughing or raving at each other. 
One of them had his head down towards his shoulder, as if 
in the act of listening, and appeared to be enjoying with a 
snigger some rich joke of the confessional ; another seemed 
actuated by hatred and revenge, as if some blooming peni- 
tent had left his desk. The main object of interest in the 
church is a broad marble staircase, called the Sacred Stairs, 
which are said to be the identical ones that led up to 
Pilate's judgment seat, and contain even now stains of 
the blood which fell from the brow of Christ when suffering 
under the crown of thorns. These are opened periodically, 
and no one is allowed to ascend them except on bended 
knees. 

After a two hours' further drive, and a visit to the Mu- 
seum and botanical gardens, I returned to my fine hotel, and 
walked through its garden to the river's bank. There was 
a profusion of flowers all around me, and on the extreme 
verge, where the wall shut out the river, were perched two 
little latticed summer-houses. The one to the left contained 
a group of Englishmen, boarders of the house, who were 
smoking and looking up towards Cologne ; but the one to 
my right was free to my solitary occupation. It sat down 
to enjoy the scene, and the better to improve it, ordered 
tea to be served to me there. It is a short description to 
say that I was enchanted — the scene itself was enchanted. 
The Rhine, the talisman of a thousand memories, was rush- 
ing at my feet. Opposite, spread vineyards, clustering with 
the grape. Further down rose the Seven Mountains, soft 
with verdure, except the frowning Drachenfels, which loomed 



THE RHINE. 283 

like some black magician among a knot of his familiars ; 
while above and around, grandeur or beauty filled up every 
detail of the picture. By the time my tea was set out, twi- 
light was descending on the mountains. The cricket was 
just opening his gossip for the night. On the swift but 
glassy stream might here and there be seen a boat, with 
some returning party from the Seibengebirge ; while break- 
ing on the doze of day, with a sound softer even than silence 
itself, came now and then a burst of childish voices, romp- 
ing on the shore, or welcoming the pleasure voyagers' return. 
When the silver echo of this music faded over the water, the 
stillness would be deeper than before, and more than once I 
felt a regret that my sleep in the cars denied me a drowsi- 
ness like that of Nature, for I wished to have a dream in the 
enchanted atmosphere that flowed about me. Being deprived 
of that, however, the next best thing that I could do was to 
light a cigar, and smoke till all the stars were out upon their 
posts, and then to retire to my chamber, and find in Childe 
Harold the imagery and vividness which I could not com- 
mand for myself. 

There are two modes which tourists select in traveling up 
and down the Rhine. The first is the rapid way, by steam- 
boat, which enables you to pass the entire panorama of the 
river, from Cologne to Mayence, in one day ; the other is to 
hire a veturino, or private traveling carriage, and pursue the 
road along the river's bank, resting nights in the various 
towns along the line. With English travelers, and those 
who intend to spend a long time in their tours, the latter is 
the favorite mode ; with Americans, and all who have keen 
observations and a sharp appreciation of the value of time, 
the former is preferred. I am with my countrymen in this 
preference, and would advise the adoption of the rapid rule 
for the whole of Europe. A few Rhine villages and their 



284 



EUROPE IN A HURRY 



feudal strongholds, are types of the entire species, and a 
Swiss or an Italian hamlet, like a Yankee one, is a mere 
pattern for all the rest. Wherever there is a grand ruin or 
a scene of special interest, it is well to devote to it a liberal 
examination; but I would not waste weeks in drawling 
through a string of dirty hamlets, in a shackly vehicle, and 
living all the while on bad fare, in the supposition that such 
a pilgrimage is necessary in order to properly see a country. 
Such a course might be serviceable, to a certain extent, in 
enabling one to study the habits of a people, but with an 
American, who has daily opportunities at home to study the 
character of every race on earth, it is not commensurate 
with a great delay of time. Of course I do not speak for 
mere idlers, but for men who travel to improve their minds, 
and with whom the hours are too full of things of great 
concern, to waste in tracing the history of some inferior vil- 
lage, or in counting the shot marks in some dilapidated 
tower. 

On the following morning, the steamboat which had left 
Cologne at six o'clock, arrived at Bonn at eight ; and, duly 
prepared with a good breakfast, I took passage on board of 
her for Mayence. At once, on starting, we plunged into 
the glories of the Rhine, and, before I had spent two hours 
of observation on the deck, I was forced to relinquish my 
notions in favor of the Hudson, to this unexampled scene. 
On all sides, mountains spring from the river's bank, backed 
by other mountains rolling away in the distance, showing 
between their summits, luxuriant sides and intervales of 
green, belonging to mountains further on. Perched on their 
tops, or riveted upon the very needle of some beetling crag, 
will stand a tower, or some crumbling ruin, looking down 
upon a cluster of humble dwellings, of which it was either 
the tyrant or protector, like an eagle from its perch. Be- 



THE RHINE. 285 

tween this border winds the river Rhine, continually curving 
in its course, and though seeming to be shut out every now 
and then from further progress by some fresh barrier of 
hills, yet opening to a new career of beauty at every turn. 

The sides of the mountains, though in many instances 
quite precipitous, are cultivated to the very tops, and during 
nearly the entire distance between Bonn and Mayence, their 
product is the vine. This culture, though wearing to the 
eye an appearance of great exuberance, is carried on with 
much difficulty, and prosperity for the crop Is wrung from 
the ungenerous and reluctant earth by every artifice known 
to ingenious husbandry. In many places the hills are so 
steep that a sufficient quantity of earth will not, of itself, 
hold for cultivation, in which case, a series of steps is built 
all along the mountain side, and earth and manure are car- 
ried up on the backs of the male and female laborers, to 
form the beds. In some cases the vines are placed in bas- 
kets, which are set on these shelves in rows, and then filled 
around with other earth. The great labor required for their 
cultivation may therefore be easily conceived. The general 
appearance of a vineyard on the Rhine, in France, Switzer- 
land, and in many parts of northern Italy, is that of a corn- 
field, and when it first falls under observation, the eye of an 
American traveler is very much puzzled to know what kind 
of crop it contains. It is the common impression in the 
United States, that the grape grows in bowers, and that the 
vineyards of Europe are distinguished by huge patriarchs of 
the fields, in some instances as sturdy as oaks, each groaning 
with half a harvest of its own. The very opposite is the 
case. The vines consist of little tender slips, scarcely three 
feet high, strengthened by sticks, to help them support the 
burden of their crops, and look, as I said before, when at a 
little distance, like shoots of young corn. To the south of 



286 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the Alps, however, they are trained on high poles, and when 
you descend through Piedmont fairly into Italy, you find 
them twined in bowers. 

The region of the Rhine is the region of legends; and no- 
where are they more abundant or more wierd than in the 
district along the river's bank. Every crumbling castle, 
every tottering tower, every beetling crag, has its tale of 
murder, magic, mystery or love, and in most of them, the 
demons of the air and earth, the spirits of the forest, the 
hobgoblins and sprites of the imagination, flap their wings 
and play their parts. Here you are pointed out the castle of 
Rolandsdeck, where the love-lorn knight perched his stony 
nest, and sighed away his life in gazing on the distant con- 
vent that immured his lady-love. There appear the castles 
of the two brothers, who slew each other in mortal combat, 
for preference in the eye of the same noble maid. Next 
comes a crag from whence the black huntsman plunged with 
his steed into the stream ; and then appears the Schonberg 
ruin, filmed for its seven beauteous daughters, who crazed 
the heads of half the young warriors of the time, but who, 
for their obduracy in maidhood, were changed into seven 
barren rocks, which might only show their heads but once a 
day, at low water, from the surface of the Rhine. Further 
along, you are shown the fortress of "the Mouse," a little 
square tower, perched upon a peak, which tradition assigns 
as the scene of a most barbarous act, perpetrated by Bishop 
Hatto, its possessor. 

The crops had failed the country round, and the starving 
poor, knowing the Bishop had an ample store of the previous 
year's produce, flocked to his castle yard for alms. Finally, 
he appointed a day to relieve their wants ; but the peti- 
tioners having collected in his great barn, he set it on fire, 
and burnt them all, to the following tune : — 



THE RHINE 



287 



11 1' faith, 'tis an excellent bonfire, quoth he, 
And the country is greatly obliged to me, 
For ridding it, in these times forlorn, 
Of the rats, that only consume the corn." 

Bishop Hatto, however, says the story, repented him of this 
act of policy, for the dead rats bred live ones, and they 
swarmed up the mountain side, entered his castle at every 
.crevice, and despite his shrieks, his prayers, and his anathe- 
mas, they devoured up his flesh and gnawed his bones. 

This tradition serves very well to mark the distinction 
which existed in the middle ages between the mountain 
nobles and the humble creatures who sheltered themselves 
within the little nooks between their castled peaks — a dis- 
tinction of baron and serf; lord and vassal ; tyrant and slave. 
The whole region of the Rhine still shows traces of expired 
oppression, and as you sail along and see the dayJight 
through the ruined battlements, and mark the havoc of the 
mine and the petard upon their shattered walls, you invo- 
luntarily thank heaven for the invention of gunpowder, which 
brought the iron-handed and iron-hearted pirates down from 
their eyries, and placed them on a level with the people. 
Before the invention of the culverin and shell, these lordly 
freebooters would select for their stronghold some peak which 
commanded a long sweep of the river and the neighboring 
roads, and as they spied the approaching caravan and the 
richly laden boat, would descend upon them, and rob them 
at pleasure in the way of tribute. From the villages which 
laid cowering at their feet they commanded such exactions 
as they pleased. They wrung service from families, they 
made a slave of the youthful peasant, and the person of no 
maiden was safe from the whim or fancy of the paramount 
oppressor. Resistance was in vain; combination for retalia- 
tion was idle ; the crag defied the approach of any united force; 
and desultory valor with its feeble shaft, would only dash 



288 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

itself to death against their massive walls. By-and-by, how- 
ever, the friar's secret was made known to the world ; small 
quantities of black grains were put into long iron tubes, and 
on the breath of the lightning that these tubes sent forth, 
went thundering rocks and whistling balls, which made the 
insolent towers shake to their foundations. The haughty 
freebooters ceased their wassail ; they took thought for a 
desperate contention, but a new use of the black grains 
undermined their foundations, and blew them and their wan- 
ton followers high into the air. There are now fewer castles 
upon the peaks than of old ; and those which stand in ruin 
are left to crumble silently away, a useless contribution of 
the past, except as a memento and a lesson. 

I made no landing in my voyage up the Rhine, having 
altered my intention of stopping at Coblentz, in consequence 
of the unpleasant nature of the day. A damp and chilling 
atmosphere, accompanied by frequent showers, were the 
features of the weather, and despite the numerous attractions 
of the scene, I was continually reminded of the necessity of 
an overcoat and an umbrella. Indeed, the weather seemed 
to have been imported direct from London, for my special 
inconvenience, and I was fully confirmed in my conclusion 
that tne climate of Europe — of that portion, at least, which 
I have seen thus far — is inferior to that of the majority of 
the states at home. Though I have been in it from June to 
midsummer, I have experienced mainly rain and chill, and 
have very seldom found it wise to lay aside either overcoat 
or double-soled boots. I am told, on all sides, however, 
that the season is a singularly wet and chilly one ; but that 
is always the cry, everywhere, on a complaint of bad 
weather. Nevertheless, I passed off the day pleasantly 
enough upon the Rhine, and arrived at Mayence, at the close 
of the afternoon, very much gratified with my excursion. 



July, 1851. 
Mayence — Weisbaden — Frankfort. 

The city of Mayence. is usually the limit of the tourist's 
upward journey on the Rhine. Even at some distance 
before reaching it, the special grandeur of the river has 
become flattened out, and exulting hills and rushing depths 
give place to low shores and widened surface. Besides, navi- 
gation is impeded at this point by a bridge of boats which 
spans the entire stream. The bed of the river, however, 
though widened is not enlarged, for it is not so deep and the 
current is therefore not diminished of the force which enables 
it to be used as a mechanical power, without artificial means. 
Frequently, throughout its course, I noticed this adaption 
of its force, to boats moored in the current, the broad wheels 
of which were turned by it slowly round, and made to per- 
form the duties of a mill. On the lower side of the bridge 
at Mayence, was moored a long string of these boats, taking 
advantage of the stiffened tide, as it rushed the swifter for 
having been compressed between the interstices of the bridge. 

Mayence is a fortified city, of a date as early as the 
Roman Empire, and has consequently undergone all the 
vicissitudes of a lengthened hisj&j^, most of which runs 
through rude and barbarous tstmllRThe chief points in its 




290 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

renown, are the facts that it was the source of free trade, 
and the birth place of Gutenberg, the inventor of types, and, 
of consequence, of the art of printing. The system of free 
trade was devised in the thirteenth century by one of its 
citizens. His scheme was to effect a league among the 
Rhenish cities, to resist the exactions of the robber barons 
who perched themselves in mountain strongholds and forced 
tribute from them at every step of their progress. He suc- 
ceeded, and the league being favored by the Emperor of 
Austria, the castles of the piratical collectors of the customs 
were blown into the air, and the cities thenceforth inter- 
changed their products fraternally with one another. The 
population of Mayence is at present about fifty thousand, 
inclusive of six thousand soldiers, who are continually in 
garrison, and who are divided equally between Austrians 
and Prussians. It belongs to the Duchy of Hesse Darm- 
stadt, but owing to its importance to all Germany as a fron- 
tier fortress, it is thus taken into the care of the two great 
German powers. It is under the immediate control of a 
Governor, who, however, for the same reasons as above 
stated, is under the direction of Austria and Prussia, and is 
appointed by them alternately, every five years. Every- 
where soldiers are seen swaggering about, and except in the 
churches, they are always the most conspicuous objects to 
be found. 

Upon the quay near the landing of the steam-boats are 
two large freestone buildings, one of which — an ancient 
palace — is now converted to the uses of a custom-house, 
and the other of which is remarkable as having been the 
temporary residence of Napoleon during the occupation of 
the city by the French. On the same line are situated the 
principal hotels of the town, looming up in large size, and 
making a fine appearance. I selected the Hollandischer 



MA YEN A. 291 

Hof, or Holland House, and found its accommodations to 
be as good as its promising exterior. After having refreshed 
myself with a cup of tea, I found time, before nightfall, to 
take a short walk about the town, and note its features. At 
length I came to the cathedral, and was fortunate enough to 
reach it just as a procession was issuing from its main door. 
It was a procession of the host marshaled by a friar with a 
long baton, who, as he reviewed his troop of virgins and 
male devotees, stepped backward as gingerly as a dancing- 
master, and every now and then squared the breasts of the 
front rank with his staff, as gravely as if he were a mechanic 
making an application of the level. While he did this, he 
led a chaunt in which the troop all followed, and the solemn 
cortege, after passing the line of the church, wound out of 
sight into a narrow street, where I did not care to follow. 
What their purpose was I did not know, but it stirred up 
thoughts which made me sad, and reminded me sufficiently 
of my fatigue to send me home. 

On the following morning I rose early to continue my 
journey, but found the weather cold and disagreeable, and 
threatening rain. Nevertheless, I set out on foot to cross 
the bridge to the rail-road station at Castel, on the opposite 
side of the river, leaving directions for my baggage to be 
sent after me. Before I had left the land, however, the rain 
came pelting down with such good will that 1 was forced to 
call a drosky, and at the time of my deposit on the opposite 
bank it had become a drenching shower. I was somewhat 
undecided whither to direct my course, as I stood at the 
broad window of the Castel depot, and saw the deluge which 
filled the air drive spitefully into the Rhine. I halted some- 
time whether to select Frankfort or Weisbaden, but finally 
decided in favor of the latter, secured a ticket, and was at 
my destination in an hour afterwards ; that is to say, at 



292 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

eight o'clock. But I found the famous watering place in 
anything but an inviting mood. The streets were deserted, 
the shops gloomy, the atmosphere was still * suffering 
under a chill, and the shower, though for the present spent' 
threatened every instant to recommence. I felt half a 
regret that I had not continued on to Frankfort, for there 
are always resources in a large city against any desperation 
of the weather, but my philosophy came to my assistance, 
and I drove to the Hotel de la Rose with a tolerably buoy- 
ant spirit. 

The reception which I met with from the gentleman in 
charge was quite a relief in view of the forbidding aspect 
of the day, and I began to congratulate myself that I had 
secured a little sunshine that was not set down in the atmos- 
pheric bills. I was not altogether so well pleased with his 
arrangements, however, for he put me in charge of an acro- 
bat, who kept me mounting until I began to mistrust that I 
was beginning anew the translation of Elijah. He brought 
me to a stand, however, at about the seventh heaven of. his 
paradise of stairs, and waiting till I had somewhat recovered 
my breath, sought to console me by beckoning me to a 
window and enlarging on the fine view which my position 
gave me of the country round. I thanked him very kindly 
for his selection, told him that I appreciated its advantages 
as well as if I were up in a balloon, but that nevertheless, 
owing to some notions I had on the subject of ascensions, I 
should be forced to change my hotel unless they could 
change my room. In the meantime I would take a bath, 
after which I wanted him to send me an intelligent valet de 
place. At this the acrobat disappeared, and I descended to 
the ground platform to take my bath. I was led into a 
passage containing a row of doors, which were attended upon 
by a man and woman, the former of whom on my appear- 



WEISBADEN. 293 

ance opened an apartment and invited me to step inside. 
I did so, and found the bath to consist of a pit dug in the 
earth about eight feet ]ong, and three feet deep and wide, 
filled with hot water, and admitting me into it by three or 
four steps which descended to the bottom. • The water 
which the well contained was conducted by subterranean 
pipes from a natural spring in the centre of the town, called 
the Kochbrunnen, or "boiling spring," which, though 150° 
Fahrenheit at its source, was subdued at this distance into 
a very pleasant temperature. I was, however, somewhat 
discouraged at first by the appearance on the surface of a 
very disgusting looking greasy scum, and rang for the 
attendant to remonstrate with him on the neglected state 
of affairs. When he came, I charged him with having 
given me a second-handed dose, and pointed to the scum 
with the remark that the water appeared to have performed 
duty not once only, but seemed to have been used by a 
whole company of grenadiers. The attendant, however, 
denied the impeachment, and vindicated the water and him- 
self by explaining that the scum which offended me so 
much, was an evidence that the fluid was in its proper state, 
and never had been used. Satisfied with this explanation, I 
took my bath, and had the satisfaction of feeling very much 
refreshed. 

Weisbaden abounds with hot springs of the sort 1 have 
described, but the most popular is the Kochbrunnen, or 
boiling spring. They are saline, but their chief qualities 
are muriate and sulphate of soda, muriate and carbonate of 
lime, muriate of magnesia and potassa. with some silicia, 
oxide of iron, and free carbonic acid. In the way of bathing 
they are said to be efficacious in curing rheumatism, gout, 
paralysis, and all cutaneous diseases ; and in the way of 
drinking they are expected to rectify any quantity of diseases 



294 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

that depend upon the stomach or the blood. Great num- 
bers of people flock annually to Weisbaden, as to our Sara- 
toga, during the summer season, for the benefit of these 
waters, and it is said that the natural population is by this 
means often doubled. The Weisbaden baths were formerly 
more in vogue among the fashionable world than at present, 
but the attractiveness of the place becoming familiar to the 
neighboring populations of Mayence and Frankfort, which' 
it lies between, led to an influx of the bourgeois, that was 
not altogether palatable to the potentates of fashion. In 
addition to this, some bad transactions in the way of gaming 
hurt the prestige of the place, and it has lost a portion of its 
popularity to other springs. Nevertheless, it is still better 
patronized than any other of the springs of Nassau, and 
being the residence of the Grand Duke, and the capital of 
his province of Nassau, is certain to retain a certain position 
in the world of fashion. 

I paid a visit, in company with my cicerone, to the boil- 
ing spring, before noticed, saw some woful visages over 
steaming tumblers, imbibing the scalding fluid by short 
instalments, and then set out for the Kursall, or grand cara- 
vansera, for the fun, frolic, pleasure, gaming, and intrigue 
of the place. This consists of a large edifice with an Ionic 
front, which throws out two wings embracing three sides of 
a spacious lawn, famous in fine weather for its promenaders, 
while under the portico which runs around its sides are situ- 
ated showy shops, filled with all sorts of finery, after the 
style of the Palais Royal at Paris. In the building are three 
large and magnificent halls, the centre of which is appro- 
priated to dancing, and the side ones to public gaming tables. 
All are superbly furnished and hung with costly chandeliers, 
and in the evening hours, as well as the hours after dinner, 
they are thronged with company. Those fond of strong 






WEISBADEN. 295 

excitements cluster around the roulette and the rouge et noir 
tables, and the more gay whirl away the hours in the waltz. 
Dancing and gaming is the business of the place. Except 
eating, there is nothing else to do, unless indeed we include 
the intrigue and other follies which proceed from leisure 
and luxurious life. The admittance to the great hall is a 
florin each for gentlemen, but ladies sail in free of any charge. 
The utmost freedom therefore prevails, and there is no diffi- 
culty to any gentleman of good manners to get a pretty 
partner, or to make a pleasing acquaintance for the season. 
Many of the ladies who frequent these dazzling scenes wear 
titles with their diamonds, but well-bred Americans are 
accredited with sufficient rank to be admissible to all. It 
was quite an early hour in the forenoon when I walked 
through these halls of Vanity Fair, but though they were 
deserted at that hour, except by three or four boss gamblers 
who were fumbling about the roulette tables, I could fancy 
in the space a thousand whirling forms, and hear the whis- 
per which made mischief with many a betrothal or marriage 
tie, or the smothered execrations which spoke the epilogues 
of ruined fortunes. It was my intention to extend my exam- 
ination to the Museum, the Mint, and the Public Library, 
but the day was so dismal and unpropitious, that I decided 
to forego the task. This conclusion was hastened, more- 
over, by a fresh shower which commenced falling as I issued 
from the Kursall, and it was confirmed by the escape of 
my hat, which lost all its Paris gloss in a series of pro- 
voking gambols, before it could be captured by the com- 
bined efforts of myself and valet. " Baden-Baden," said I 
to myself on my return to my hotel, " shall be the recom- 
pense for the loss of this watering-place," and accordingly 
on my arrival I ordered my trunk to be strapped down, 



296 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

paid my bill, and set out by the twelve o'clock train to 
Frankfort. 

I arrived at my new destination in an hour, and was 
received at the depot by a stout, red-faced gentleman, in 
a coat with six capes, who caught me in his arms when the 
car-door opened, as if he had been waiting for me, and 
considered me his captive by right of conquest. When he 
deposited me on the ground, I discovered, by many unmis- 
takable signs, that he was a coachman ; and in endorsement 
of his rights in the premises, I delivered myself and goods 
into his hands without a murmur. In a few minutes I found 
myself drawn up in front of an ostentatious edifice, entitled 
Hotel Empereur Romain. It seemed as if I had been ex- 
pected at this place also, for there were at least a dozen 
persons at the doorway, headed by the host, who, as soon 
as I had descended, raised their hats with great ceremony, 
and bowed on both sides of me as I entered the house. It 
struck me that I was perhaps mistaken for some distin- 
guished guest, and feeling at once that the high rank of an 
American citizen was thus challenged to vindicate itself, I 
accepted the tribute as if it were my due, and with a short 
nod of dignified condescension, walked between them as if 
I were a hereditary scion of the house of Brunswick. " At 
any rate," thought I to myself, as I brought myself to an- 
chor on a superb sofa, in a finely furnished chamber, " if 
this is a joke, I at least have had my share of it." My 
opinion changed, however, before my stay was ended, and 
I was enabled to attribute to politeness what I at first had 
charged to accident. The attentions were kept up, and I 
never moved about the house, or went out of it, or came 
in, but the same raising of hats, and the same respectful 
bows, took place. Indeed, I soon found this custom to be 
general among the people. The common mode of saluta- 



FRANKFORT. 297 

tion is by raising the hat, and it is carried to such an 
extent, that people of the highest pretension practice it to 
the humblest in the same way and to the same extent, that 
we make recognition by a nod of the head. I was quite 
surprised when I walked out with my new valet de place, to 
find persons of the most imposing appearance paying him 
this high mark of respect, and equally struck when I per- 
ceived purchasers of all grades raising their hats to shop- 
keepers every time they entered and went out of their 
shops. This custom prevails very generally throughout 
Germany. It is a very pleasing one, and I should judge it 
is a very beneficial one to the hatters. 

Frankfort is one of the most ancient cities of Germany, 
and it has always been famous for its commerce, and for* the 
public spirit of its citizens. It was made a free city in the 
twelfth century, and still remains one, with a territorial 
dependence of some eighty-five square miles. This territory 
has a Senate of forty-two members. These are divided into 
three grades, and they annually elect two Presidents from 
the first and second ranks. There is also a permanent cham- 
ber of fifty-one citizens, and a legislative chamber. This 
latter chamber is comprised of twenty from each of the two 
above named bodies, forty-five persons chosen by the electo- 
ral college of the city, and nine chosen by the rural districts ; 
making, in all, a Congress of ninety-four members, which 
meet every November, for a session of six weeks. The 
Senate is the executive branch, but how the other attributes 
of government are parceled out and balanced, I had not time 
to analyze and ascertain. Such as it is, it has always been 
attended with great prosperity to the State ; but though it 
bears the name of a free city, it has never had a free or generous 
government. It has always treated the Jews with great 
illiberality, and other sects, also, have at times felt the effects 

~~ 13* 



298 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of its bigotry and persecutions. Until within a few years 
back the Jews were confined to a certain quarter of the city, 
within which they were closed at night by two large gates ; 
and all who were found outside beyond a given hour, were 
liable to serious punishment. Worse still — though their 
number rates at six thousand, or one-tenth of the entire 
population of the place — they were, until 1834, prohibited 
from contracting, among the whole body, more than thirteen 
marriages a year. The result of this was, that the unfortu- 
nate Hebrews were obliged to ent^x into conventional mar- 
riages, which, though they received' no sanction from the 
law, were privately warranted by all the sanctifications of 
the Jewish church. Frankfort is the birth-place of the 
Rothschilds ; and in the Judengasse, or Jews' quarter, you 
are shown the house in which this remarkable family were 
bonn. It is a queer old building, situated in the midst of 
buildings as queer and dirty as itself; but notwithstand- 
ing its condition, it was clung to, till a year or two ago, 
despite of all temptations to remove, by the aged mother 
of the stock. 

The appearance of the city, or that part of it called the 
old town, is the most quaint imaginable. The streets are 
most of them very narrow; the gables of the houses jut 
forth over the lower stories, like fungi, and the roofs are car- 
ried up in peaks so lofty, that I have seen four tiers or stories 
of windows in one of these canopies of slate. To render 
them still more picturesque, you will now and then see their 
chimneys surmounted by huge storks' nests, and perhaps 
Wehold one of these famed sentinels standing bolt upright in 
his perch, flapping his great wings in enjoyment of his privi- 
leges, with as much complacency as if he were a burgher of 
the town. The modern part of the town, however, is very 
fine. The streets are broad, well curbed and paved, and the 



FRANKFORT. « 299 

residences of the rich are veritable palaces. Chief among 
them is the residence of the brothers Bethman, the bankers 
with whom I hold my account ; but there are many others 
which would be quite adequate to the state and condition 
of a prince. Indeed, the rich of the place ape as much style 
as they can, and assume the concomitants of the most pre- 
tentious aristocracy. They vie with each other in keep- 
ing fine gardens, and in gathering collections of rare 
paintings for the traveler to visit and admire. The Beth- 
mans exhibit in their garden Danneker's celebrated statue 
of Ariadne and the lion, for which they paid 15,000 florins. 
The people of Frankfort are very proud of this piece of 
work, and claim it to be equal to any ancient masterpiece 
of art. Throughout the shops of the town you continually 
meet with reduced copies of it in bronze and bisque, and it 
has also become a favorite arabesque for china ware. 

The objects of main interest in Frankfort are the house of 
Goethe, the poet, which still stands in the same condition as 
at the time of his birth, and the Romer, or Council House 
of the Geman Emperors. This building contains the cham- 
ber where the German Emperors were elected from Conrad 
I. to Francis II., and about the walls are hung their portraits 
in regular succession. In this same chamber the Senate of 
Frankfort now holds its sittings, and within the building is 
preserved the golden bull by which Charles IV. determined 
the number of imperial electors and their mode of voting. 
The charge to see this document is about a dollar, so I passed 
it by, and contented myself with dropping about two shil- 
lings into the hand of the next little Dutch maiden who, 
with one key on her finger, and a bunch of them at her girdle, l\f 
was prepared to show me through every room in the house. 



July, 1851. 

Heidelberg — Baden-Baden — Hell — The Castle of Torture — 
Life among the Springs. 

On the second morning of my stay in Frankfort, I rose 
at an early hour, and took a farewell walk about the flowery 
ramparts of the town, previous to leaving it forever. I 
next directed my attention to the market, next to a spot 
that is pointed out as the site of Charlemagne's house ; next 
crossed the ancient bridge over the Mayne at one point, and 
recrossed the stream in a shallop skulled by a large headed 
and large bottomed Dutch waterman, at another, and finally 
went to breakfast, satisfied that I had finished up the residue 
of the sights of the place with all the faithfulness that could 
be expected of a wayfarer, who was traveling alone. After 
breakfast I made, for the third time, an effort to find the 
American Consul, but owing to his hard German name, and 
the brief space of time he allotted to his consular duties, 
was doomed to a final disappointment, so resolving to trou- 
ble myself no more about my passport at this point, I closed 
my trunk and decreed a continuance of my rail-road cam- 
paign. 

On leaving my hotel door I received the adieus of the 
whole available force of the household, in the same cere- 
monious manner as they gave me welcome when I arrived, 



DEPARTURE FROM FRANKFORT. 301 

and amid such a raising of hats as would have been accom- 
panied by at least nine cheers in any part of the United 
States, I bowed back, raised my hat in return, and drove 
off. On my road to the station I saw the Prince of Prussia 
issue from the Hotel de Russie in the same way, and, except 
by a presentation of muskets and sabres, he had none the 
better of me. A little further, I stopped my coach to notice 
the exercises of a military riding school, which occupied an 
open square, and spent some ten minutes in observing a skil- 
ful cavalry officer drilling a number of fresh recruits, and 
teaching them how to sit and manage a horse. They are 
manufacturing cavalry throughout the Austrian and Prussian 
States at present as fast as possible, and likewise augment- 
ing and drilling new levies of infantry in every German 
town. I like the sight. The object is to organize a force 
to overwhelm all prospective insurrectionary movements 
throughout Europe, but now that bayonets think, the cun- 
ning of the science will be turned against the inculcators, 
and these military establishments prove the common schools 
of liberation. Let them go on and recruit and drill ; it is re- 
served for them to learn soon, the new lesson, that it is dan- 
gerous for despots to multiply soldiers in an age when all 
men know, that what belongs to them is their own. 

When I arrived at the depot I found that the Grand Duke 
of Baden was to be a fellow passenger, and what was of still 
more interest, I was enabled to count twenty-six Americans, 
whom the different hotels of the town had contributed to the 
train. " Nobody but Princes and Americans ride in the first 
class cars in Germany," is of late years a common conti- 
nental joke, and in justification of both ends of the maxim, 
the two first class cars, besides the one occupied by the 
Grand Duke, were filled with brother Jonathans, leaving a 
large portion of us to lose rank in the second class. Never 



302 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

before, I imagine, did the conductors and servants of the 
train see so many Princes together, and they did not fail to 
bestow upon us a liberal share of their admiration. I have 
no doubt we surprised the Grand Duke himself, for I obser- 
ved him on one occasion when he was receiving the cheers 
and homage of the crowds collected at the various stations, 
touch the arm of his chief gentleman in waiting, and look 
towards us, as if inquiring who were these grave and silent 
gentlemen, who poured out of the first class cars. 

The road which I had taken terminated at Baden-Baden 
in a southerly direction, and embraced in its line the inter- 
esting places of Heidelberg and Carlsruhe. Most tourists 
on their road downward stop at both these places, but I was 
in haste to cross the Alps, and my yearning for Baden-Baden 
devoured up my curiosity for intermediate points. Heidel- 
berg, however, was too well worthy of a visit to deserve 
this slight, and as soon as it was behind me, I regretted 
having passed it by. It is celebrated for having experienced 
greater vicissitudes than any city of the German States, in 
the way of bombardments, burnings and pillage, and it is 
likewise renowned for the most famous castellated ruin of 
the continent. In the cellars of this castle is shown the 
celebrated Heidelberg tun, which, when the Electors held 
their court here, was always filled with generous wine, the 
great bulk of eight hundred hogsheads which it contained, 
enabling them to hold frequent wassail from it, and to sup- 
ply with new wine whatever quantity was temporarily 
taken out, without impairing the enormous quantity which 
remained, with any perceptible defect of flavor. 

The town, too, presents the queer circumstance of a church 
dedicated to the Holy Ghost, which is divided into two sec- 
tions, for Catholic and Protestant worship; and it also pre- 
sents the further curiosity of the Church of St. Peter, to the 



HEIDELBERG. 303 

doors of which Jerome of Prague, the companion of John 
Huss, nailed the theses that contained the doctrines of the 
Reformation. I received glowing descriptions of all these 
things from the American recruits whom we took up at this 
station, and mentally resolved not to admit to any new 
acquaintances I had not been there. Indeed, 1 had long 
previous to this discovered that the wisest course for a trav- 
eler to pursue, when asked if he has been to this place or 
that, is to answer promptly in the affirmative, and let the 
questioner pass to something else. If you are indiscreet 
enough to say "no," you are at once put to the torture, and 
told, with hands outspread and eyes distended with pitying 
surprise, that the place you have omitted, was the place 
of all places that you should have seen. Three times 
was I laid upon the rack in this way. The first time I was 
half convinced by the earnestness of my tormentor that I 
had virtually come to Europe for nothing, but I discovered 
the philosophy of the matter after the third assault, and 
made up my mind firmly to pretend thereafter to have seen 
everything that any one else had seen. I recommend the 
same course to all travelers. Nothing is more annoying to 
the quiet tourist than to be reproached in this way by every 
person who wishes to become an oracle at the expense of 
his ignorance. 

Among the new accessions of my country-people whom I 
had the pleasure of meeting with at this point, was a most 
estimable family from Georgia, consisting of an elderly gen- 
tleman who has represented his district twice in the legisla- 
ture, accompanied by his wife and daughter, a nephew and 
two nieces. I had first fallen in with the party at Paris, 
and now met them here with as much pleasure as if they 
were relations. They had started in advance of me, had 
come nearly over the same road, but having traveled more 



304 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

leisurely, I had been enabled thus to overtake them. I 
found them in charge of a traveling valet, or courier (as 
such improved editions of commissionaires are called), 
whose duty it was to attend to their baggage and pass- 
ports, make bargains, pay their bills, and talk all sorts of 
tongues to all sorts of people, with whom their traveling 
necessities should bring them in contact. For these ser- 
vices, the traveling expenses of the courier is paid, and he 
is allowed for his labor one dollar per day ; a sum well laid 
out, for without such assistance, traveling soon becomes 
irksome, and reduces you to the condition of a servant to 
yourself. 

The courier, in this case, was a tight built little Italian, 
from the lake of Como. He had an intelligent, knowing 
look, as all couriers are bound to have ; nevertheless, his 
sharpness was subdued by exceeding good manners, and 
were it not for his vocation, he might have passed at any 
time for a traveler of leisure. He was about forty years 
of age, much of which time he had spent in journeying 
about Europe, and was able to impart in such conversations 
as take place on the top of a stage-coach, many things that 
made him interesting as a companion. I take this pains 
about Louis Cisi (or Chizzy as he is pronounced), because I 
foresee it is destined he shall become serviceable to me, and 
that I shall derive no small amusement from his peculiar- 
ities. The family to which he belonged welcomed me to 
their route of travel, and the younger branches, as soon as 
they heard me say I intended to continue on to Italy, took 
me into their confidence and hailed me as a valuable ally, 
to help persuade the old folks to continue on as far as Rome. 
The Eternal City had been the destination of the party at 
the time of leaving Paris, but the heat of the season, and 
reports of malaria on the campagna, had cut off their pros- 



BADEN-BADEN. 805 

pects of travel at Vevay and Geneva. The young ladies, 
however, were not at all afraid of the unhealthiness of 
Rome, and had been engaged for several clays past in de- 
vising methods to make favorable weather in the longed-for 
quarter. It may be conceived, therefore, when my opinion 
of the safety of Rome was asked, they awaited my answer 
with extraordinary interest ; and when, by what they after- 
wards called a few masterly strokes of language, they heard 
me strip the prospect of its terrors, and laugh the pestilent 
rumors out of thought, they regarded me as a deliverer. 
The party were in great spirits that afternoon ; even Louis 
Cisi, from the lake of Como, courier, aged forty years, went 
about rubbing his hands and smiling like a comic almanac, 
at this new gleam of a continuance of his term of services 
for two months more. I smiled myself, for it gave me a 
prospect of delightful company, and in addition to that, I 
was exhilarated with the consciousness of being engaged in 
a little piece of mischief. As doubtful as the matter looked, 
I promised to accomplish the feat, and thus by having a 
special object to achieve, I added a new attraction to my 
wanderings. 

The Duke of Baden left us at Carlsruhe, where he has a 
palace, and we continued on, and arrived at Baden-Baden at 
half past five. We were not subject to any custom-house 
detentions, and Cisi, recognizing me now as under his care, 
and detecting likewise in my face a good promise of extra 
fees, took charge of my baggage as of the rest, and the entire 
party of us drove to a magnificent establishment, known as 
the Hotel de l'Europe. After dinner, the ladies, though 
much fatigued, expressed a desire for a walk, and just as one 
light after another began to appear, upon the dusk of night, 
we went forth. Truly it was an enchanted scene. Our 
hotel contained a graveled garden in front, filled with indi- 



306 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

genous flowers, and ornamented with large orange trees in 
blossom. At the foot of the garden ran the river Oos, some 
twelve feet wide. Facing the river appeared majestic trees, 
thinned out for a promenade ; under them wound graveled 
walks, and beyond, rose various structures devoted to the 
luxuries and pleasures of the place — while behind, and all 
around, ran lofty mountains, like a grand rim of darkness 
against the sky — upholding as it were, like a monster goblet, 
the flood of blue and sparkling firmament above. There 
could not choose but be a river here, for the village lies per- 
fectly embosomed, and the wonder is, that in any season the 
stream should be no larger than the Oos. 

The scene where we first directed our steps was were 
most people moved ; and that, of course, was to the Kursall 
and its vicinity. This establishment is a large white build- 
ing, with an ornamental front, covering as much space as the 
Astor House, or any ordinary square of buildings, in the 
style of the United States, though not, of course, so deep. In 
front of it are arranged groves of orange trees, where prome- 
naders walk. There little tables are set around, for parties 
to sip coffee or eat ices, and all along, in front, the building 
is strewed with rows of chairs, occupied by gentlemen and 
ladies, who are either engaged in gossip, or in listening to 
the performances of a splendid band in front. Inside this 
building is a magnificent hall comprising nearly its full 
length, its walls being covered with richly figured damask, 
and its interior lighted with brilliant chandeliers. At the 
upper end of the hall, and directly under one of the main 
chandeliers, is situated a large gaming table, on which the 
art and mystery of rouge el noir is performed, and behind, 
and partly divided by a damask partition, is another table 
for the game of roulette. Behind these tables sit the banker 
and two assistants, who pay and take the wagers with little 



BADEN-BADEN. 



307 



wooden rakes. With these they haul in and shove forth the 
gold, while before them press a crowd of players, who, after 
placing down their glittering stakes, stand as silently as 
statues, awaiting the decision of their bets. These players 
are not only gentlemen, but sometimes ladies — while gath- 
ering in the crowd, to look at the fluctuations of the game, 
will often be seen anxious members of the softer sex. About 
the area of this grand hall, crowds are continually sauntering 
up and down, while tired couples take refuge on luxurious 
side sofas, and review the throngs as they go by. In the 
rear of this gaming hall is the dancing saloon, and on either 
wing is a restaurant and an opera-house. 

The fatigues of the day soon were so much multiplied by 
the excitements of this scene, that the ladies of the party 
retired again to the hotel for repose ; but I, being of a more 
elastic spirit, took to the mountain in the rear, for a moon- 
light view. I was induced to this by the appearance of 
couples whom I saw now and then disappear in that direc- 
tion, up mazy paths, or issue from some luxuriant jungle, 
which yawned against a background as sombre as a cave. 
I struck one of these avenues and commenced winding up, 
being decoyed into all sorts of sinuosities by interweaving 
roads, and only kept in my proper latitude by the sparkle 
of the Kursall at my feet, and the swell of the music that 
rose from its orange promenades. At length I reached the 
apex, and stood in the broad moonlight above the groves 
which art had sprinkled on the hill, and in the midst of an 
atmosphere that was voluptuous with music, and delicious 
with perfume. Around me ran a complete circus of dark 
mountains, the commencement of the Black Forest range. 
Below, and in the centre of this gigantic bowl, lay the en- 
bosomed village, a portion of it creeping up the sides of 
the opposite hill, while perched upon the top of the eminence 



308 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

which overawed it, rose the towers of the Neue Schloss, or 
castle of the Duke of Baden ; the tyrant of the scene. It 
was a soft and delicious picture, and quite undisturbed 
except by the furious barking of a dog confined in a solitary 
chateau on the crown of the hill, and who had taken offense, 
it seemed, at the interruption of the solitude by my 
approach. I tried to pacify him with my voice, but failing 
to appease him below a sullen growl, I retreated from the 
disturbance, and commenced to descend to the hall, where I 
supposed his master or mistress had gone before me, to 
enjoy the gaming tables or the waltz. 

When I arrived below, I found that the ball had begun ; 
so after a short visit to my hotel, for the purpose of array- 
ing myself in proper costume, I entered the dancing saloon, 
and made one of the observers. It was not a large, but a 
very tastefully ornamented hall, and among the other deco- 
rations were large orange trees, in boxes, which, being in 
full blossom, shed their most delicious of all fragrance 
through the room. The chief ornament of all, however, 
was the grace and matchless manners of the company ; 
while as to the dancing, each person who swung upon the 
floor seemed qualified to give lessons in the art. The gen- 
tlemen were elegantly, but very plainly dressed, each per- 
haps with a single diamond in his bosom ; but the ladies 
were radiant with gems, and bedecked in all the richest 
fabrics known to art. I shall never forget one of them, a 
Russian countess, who was arrayed in cambric, and who, 
with her waxen cheeks and flaxen hair, seemed more like a 
spirit, enveloped in a fleecy cloud, that had floated in the 
open window by accident, than like a mortal member of the 
scene. If I had not been in the region of the Black Forest, 
where spirits and sprites are plenty, and where the entire 
air is tinged with romance, I might have been satisfied to 



BADEN-BADEN. 809 

have compared her with a waxen doll ; but her eyes redeemed 
her from that derogation, and certainly she danced like an 
angel. As her pink feet twinkled under her puff of snowy 
skirts, I could not help associating her with the name of the 
"flying cloud." I retired at twelve o'clock, but till two the 
Russian princess kept floating about my apartment, without 
ever knocking against the bed-posts, while the music, which 
was really directing her mortal footsteps in the Kursail, 
breathed through the slats of my blinds, to inspirit the 
phantom in its airy waltz. When the music ceased, the 
fancy fled, and the bubbling of the river under my windows 
took me back to early recollections and the ease of boyhood, 
I fell asleep. 

1 did not, however, get all the repose to which I was en- 
titled ; at early sunrise I was awakened by a band of soft 
instruments, consisting of flutes, violins, clarionets, oboes, 
and flageolets, whose delicious strains seemed to ooze out 
of the very leaves and flowers, as if the tranquil voice of 
Nature were of itself breathing thanks for the Sabbath sweet- 
ness of the morning. I opened my casement and looked 
abroad, and scanned anew the landscape which had ravished 
me so much the night before. It was the same, but brighter 
for the flood of gold which was just pouring in upon the 
scene over the rim of hills, to which the sun had lifted with 
his beams. " Truly," said I, " this Baden-Baden is a perfect 
Paradise on earth ; and that being the case, I will put on my 
pantaloons, and go forth and enjoy it." 

I found the music which had awakened me nearly oppo- 
site the hotel, at a place called the Trinkhalle, or Drinking 
Hall, a long and handsome building, with a fine colonnade, 
which is devoted to the service of enclosing the main hot 
spring of the place. Here, valetudinarians resort, and 
Sefore breakfast and dinner take their prescribed gulps of 



310 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

mineral fluid. I joined the crowd of patients, and out of 
curiosity drank my glass alone. Its flavor was like that 
of warm milk to my palate, but is generally represented to 
taste like chicken broth. The place for bathing is mostly 
in the town, on the slope which rises behind the river. It 
is from the heights above that the hot springs burst, and 
owing to the warmth they impart to a large portion of the 
surface of the earth, and the steaming currents of waste 
water that escape towards the river, this part of the town 
has received the very graphic name of " Hell." In Hell is 
situated the principal source of the hottest spring. It was 
shown to me in all its features, and I became satisfied that 
the representation that it was used for scalding purposes 
with pigs and poultry, was no falsehood. Above this por- 
tion of the town looms the Duke's Castle, and Hell being 
an appropriate starting point for so horrible a mansion, I 
took a donkey and commenced the ascent, in the style of 
Sancho Panza, and many a much less celebrated man. I 
reached the castle after a tedious effort, was very well 
received by an attendant at the gate, and very politely 
shown through the various portions of the building. The 
castle is not new, as its name imports. On the contrary, it 
is very old, having been built in 1689, to supply the place 
of the ruin of a still older castle on the summit of the ad- 
joining hill, which had been previously burnt down by the 
French. It is chiefly remarkable for the horrible dungeons 
which are sunken under its foundations ; and as I find them 
well and briefly described to my hand, and exactly as I saw 
them, in " Murray's Hand-Book of Northern Germany," I 
will save myself the trouble of going over the same ground, 
by adopting that description verbatim. 

" Under the guidance of the castellan," says Murray, " the 
stranger is conducted into these singular vaults down a wind- 



THE CASTLE OF TORTURE. 311 

ing stair-case, under the tower, in the right-hand corner of 
the inner court, through an ancient bath constructed by the 
Romans. This entrance has been broken through in modern 
times ; originally the dungeons were only accessible from 
above, by a perpendicular shaft or chimney running through 
the centre of the building, and still in existence. The visi- 
tor, in passing under it, can barely discern daylight at the 
top. According to tradition, prisoners, bound fast in an 
arm-chair and blindfolded, were let down by a windlass into 
these dark and mysterious vaults, excavated out of the solid 
rock on which the castle is founded. The dungeons were 
closed not with doors of wood or iron, but with solid slabs 
of stone, turning upon pivots, and ingeniously fitted. Several 
of them still remain ; they are nearly a foot thick, and weigh 
from 1200 to 2000 pounds. In one chamber, loftier than 
the rest, called the Rack Chamber, (Folter Kammer,) the 
instruments of torture stood ; a row of iron rings, forming 
part of the fearful apparatus, still remains in the wall. In 
a passage adjoining, there is a well or pit in the floor, now 
boarded over, originally- covered with a trap-door. The 
prisoner, upon whom doom had been passed, was led into 
this passage and desired to kiss an image of the Virgin 
placed at the opposite end ; but no sooner did his feet rest 
on the trap-door, than it gave way beneath his weight and 
precipitated him to a great depth below upon a machine 
composed of wheels armed with lancets, by which he was 
torn to pieces. This dreadful punishment was called the 
Baiser de la Vierge, and the fatal pit, with its trap-door, an 
oubliette ; because those who were precipitated down it were 
1 oublies > — never heard of more. The secret of this terrible 
dungeon remained unknown, until, as the story goes, an 
attempt to rescue a little dog, which had fallen through the 
planking above the pit, led to the discovery, at a depth of 



312 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

many yards, of fragments of ponderous wheels set round 
with rusty knives, with portions of bones, rags, and torn 
garments adhering to them. The last and largest of these 
vaults is called the Hall of Judgment. Here the judges sat 
upon stone benches, remains of which may still be traced 
round the wall. Behind the niche where the President 
(Blutrichter) sat, is the outlet to a subterranean passage, by 
which the members of the court entered. It is said to have 
communicated at one time with the Alte Schloss, on the top 
of the hill, but it is now walled up. According to popular 
belief, these dungeons were the seat of a secret tribunal, 
(Vehm-Gericht,) such as that described so well by Scott, in 
Anne of Geierstein, and by Goethe, in Gotz of Berlichingen. 
It must be remembered, however, that the famous Vehme 
of Westphalia held its meetings, not in the dark, nor in 
dungeons, but in the broad daylight, and in the open fields. 
There is little doubt that these prisons were the place of 
meeting of a mysterious tribunal, over which the lord of the 
castle most probably presided. Similar prisons (excepting 
the doors) are to be found in almost every well-preserved 
baronial fortress of the middle ages, and though sometimes 
appropriated to the trial of real offenses, committed within 
the seigneur's jurisdiction, were not unfrequently the instru- 
ments of tyranny and the scenes of dark crime, while, at the 
best, from the secrecy of the proceedings, such a trial must 
have been but wild justice. The upper part of the castle is 
only worth notice on account of the fine view from its win- 
dows, and of the open shaft running through the building 
from top to bottom, within the winding stair-case, which was 
the means of access to the dungeons below. It was divided 
by a partition extending the whole way down. It is sup- 
posed that a prisoner, with his eyes blindfolded, was admit- 
ted by a door in the hall, opposite the principal entrance of 



BADEN-BADEN. 313 

the castle, was seated in an arm chair, wound up to the top 
by windlass through one side of the shaft, and let down the 
other, into the prisons of the secret tribunal. The shaft at 
least served to convey air into those subterranean chambers." 
One would suppose that the present Grand Duke, in defe- 
rence to the spirit of the age, if not in regard to his own 
sentiments of delicacy, would obliterate these horrible wit- 
nesses of the atrocities of his ancestors ; but it seems that 
so far from esteeming them a reproach, he makes a merit 
of their exhibition, in the hope, doubtless, of profiting 
by the wholesome awe and allegiance they inspire. He 
does not use these dungeons now, but has a castellated 
prison on the Oos, where recently a more barbarous tragedy 
was performed, than the ones so vividly described above by 
Murray. It took place shortly subsequent to my departure 
from Baden-Baden, but as it is within the date of this letter, 
I may allude to it. The new prison is situated on the bank 
of the Oos, and at the time of my stay was filled with poli- 
tical prisoners charged with revolutionary projects, many of 
whom were men of high character. While they were repos- 
ing in their dungeons, closely locked and harshly treated, 
heavy rains fell, a freshet gathered, and the puny Oos rose 
to a swelling and abundant river. All the platform of Baden- 
Baden was swamped ; the dining room of the Hotel de 
l'Europe, some ten feet above the ordinary surface of the 
stream, was flooded two feet deep, and the deluge in another 
quarter bubbled in the prison windows. The unfortunate 
captives, not knowing what this meant, gave the alarm, and 
by degrees, as the water rose, they clamored for release. 
But the guards paid no attention. — The Grand Duke was at 
Carlshrue, and they had no authority to let the prisoners 
loose. The waters rose higher and higher. The outcries 
of the captives rose to shrieks ; despair overtook them ; 



14 



314 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

they fancied this a deliberate act on the part of the Duke 
and his bloody myrmidons to put them to death, and they 
raised their hands aloft and cursed him before God. Some 
sought to dash their brains out against the wall ; some fell 
to prayers ; others clung to the bars and lifted themselves as 
high as they could out of the rising flood ; but at length, as 
the water rose to their nostrils, their hold broke, and with a 
bubbling shriek and malediction joined together, they sank 
quieted forever. All on the first floor, (and I believe the 
number was thirty,) perished in this way, but the keepers 
received no reprimand from his Highness. They had obeyed 
orders, and like good men and true, had not suffered any 
principle of humanity to interfere with their duty for so 
legitimate a prince. 

After having visited the Castle, I returned to the hotel, 
and found the courier busily engaged looking for me, charged 
with an invitation to accompany his family to the Castle of 
New Eberstein, another ancestral fortalice of the Duke of 
Baden, at the distance of some six or seven miles. We set 
out in two barouches, and after a drive of an hour and a 
half, through one of the most delightful pieces of country I 
ever saw, arrived at the object of our jaunt. We found the 
castle perched on the very crest of a crag, and when we got 
inside, were quite surprised to find, that what looked like a 
mere spire, or turret of masonry, from the vale below, con- 
tained so many neat and comfortable rooms. It is richly 
furnished, and during portions of the year is used as a resi- 
dence by some of the Grand Duke's family. The symbol of 
the genealogy stands over one gateway, in the shape of an ex- 
quisitely cut wild boar, and the likenesses inside of the lords 
of the line, exhibit a marvelous agreement with the crest. 
After examining the Gothic furniture, ancient armor, paint- 
ings, and stained glass, we stepped out on the balcony, and 



BADEN-BADEN. 315 

viewed the valley of the Mourg, as it wound like a thread 
far down and away, until it was lost amid the multiplying 
mountains of the Black Forest. Our last performance was 
to enter our names in a register — a common custom at all 
private castles — and to give a fee to the custodian — also 
common — and then retire. The scene upon the height was 
too beautiful, however, to leave hastily ; so when we got 
outside, we took advantage of a table and some benches, 
which we found underneath the trees, on the edge of the cliff, 
and consulted Louis Cisi on the subject of refreshment. If 
Louis Cisi was really great on any subject, it was on this. 
He received my views with profound attention, and in a few 
minutes succeeded in mesmerizing a stout Dutchwoman, 
who appeared at a postern in the castle-yard, sufficiently to 
obtain two bottles of red wine, a large slice of goat's milk 
cheese, and a stout loaf of moist rye bread. We ate of our 
lunch with fine appetites, laughed, joked, and enjoyed every- 
thing around us, and being perfectly refreshed, consigned the 
residue of the two bottles of wine to the scientific apprecia- 
tions of the courier, and returned to Baden-Baden, much 
improved. 

It was the middle of the afternoon when we entered the 
village, and the rows of shops around the Kursall, which had 
been closed in the morning, were opened, in defiance of the 
day. The music was playing, crowds were swarming about, 
and the gaming tables were more numerously patronized 
than they had been even on the previous night. The own- 
ers of these tables pay a large tribute to the government for 
their banking privileges, and they cannot afford to do with- 
out the profits of the Sunday business. Moreover, they sus- 
tain the bands of music that enliven the place, and expend 
250,000 florins a year upon the walks and public buildings. 
These conditions sanctify their proceedings to the conscience 



'316 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of the Grand Duke, and his guests are subject to be plun- 
dered, for the indirect revenue of the State. His ancestors 
had a more direct way of levying tribute on all comers, but 
it is doubtful if their downright policy, was as profitable as 
his present system. 



July, 1S51. 

Strasbourg — The Clock and the Cock — Basle — The Castle 
Ruin. 

The blandishments of Baden-Baden, with all its Arabian 
charms, were not equal to the attractions of good traveling 
company ; neither were they equal to the resistance of that 
unconquerable desire to move forward, which is incessant in 
the mind of every American ; so when I received notice, on 
the second day of my stay, that the party I had joined at 
Heidelburg intended to move to Strasbourg on the following 
morning, by the early train, 1 dropped my resolution upon 
theirs, and placed myself in the hands of the courier, to be 
waked at a proper hour in the morning. 

We started at six o'clock, and after a two hours' run, 
through a finely cultivated country, arrived at the bank of 
the Rhine, which here marks the western limit that divides 
Germany from France. We crossed the rushing river by 
a bridge of boats, and soon after striking the opposite bank, 
were gratified with a sight of the neat little French soldiers, 
in their saucy caps, and doubly gratified with the frequent 
appearance of the inscriptions of " liberie, equalite,fratemite" 
which distinguish not only their barracks, but every public 
building within the domains of the Grande Nation. It was 
the semblance of liberty at least. How long to last remains 
to be seen. 



318 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

Immediately after crossing the river, our diligence, which 
conveyed us from the rail-way depot on the other side, drew 
up at a bureau of police, and we severally handed out our 
passports to an officer, who stepped to the windows to de- 
mand them. Leaving our credentials in his hands, we drove 
on a little farther, and were stopped at a bureau of the cus- 
toms, where we were directed to point out our trunks, in 
order that they might be examined. The Strasbourg bureau 
has a very bad name for being too sharp in this sort of busi- 
ness, and it was amusing to observe the perturbation of 
some of the ladies as they fumbled for their keys, and 
watched the countenances of the officers who were to have 
the handling of their clothes. Fortunately for our party, 
we escaped all the annoyance that attends this sort of scru- 
tiny. We intended to depart from Strasbourg in the after- 
noon train for Basle, Switzerland, so leaving our baggage in 
the hands of the officers to be sealed up and despatched 
through the territory of France without being opened, we 
were enabled to depart without annoyance or concern. An- 
other American party of ladies and gentlemen, however, 
who shared our omnibus, were not so luckily situated. 
They were bound for Paris, and were doomed, therefore, to 
see the rude fingers of the myrmidons of tribute run through 
their clothes, and turn up articles to the eyes of a mixed 
company of observers, that were fit only for the scrutiny of 
washerwomen. This is an odious practice ; annoying enough, 
surely, to male travelers ; but to ladies quite unbearable. 
It is to be hoped that the time will soon come when great 
governments, like that of France, England, and the United 
States, will collect their revenue in some reputable way, and 
be above the indecency of stopping friendly visitors upon the 
highway, and running their fingers through their linen to see 
if they cannot grope out a few farthings' worth of duties. 



STRASBOURG. 319 

From the custom-house, we drove to a fine establish- 
ment, known as the Hotel de la Ville, and having refreshed 
ourselves by washing, and an hour's rest, set out to see what 
we could of the town, between that and five o'clock. My 
first duty was to go to the post-office, and despatch a letter 
to the United States. I was the more in earnest about it, 
as I was behindhand with my correspondence, and I had but 
fourteen days margin, before it was due for publication in 
my paper in New York. Nevertheless, such is the accuracy 
of postal arrangements in France and England, and such the 
exactness of our noble American mail steamers, that I had 
been enabled, on calculation, to humor my idleness to this 
point, and yet to be in time. (That letter, mailed in Cen- 
tral Europe, as I describe, reached my office in New York 
on the afternoon I had marked down for it, and was duly 
given to the hundred thousand readers of the National Po- 
lice Gazette on the following morning, without a disappoint- 
ment.) From the post-office I walked to the market, when, 
after Louis Cisi and I had fraternized over two or three pounds 
of fine cherries, I returned to the hotel, to place myself at 
the command of my friends. 

We rode about the city sufficiently to find that Strasbourg 
was a very serious, quaint, and antiquated town, with a 
German aspect, despite its French possession ; and when 
we got tired of riding, we disposed of the barouches and 
took a'peep into the shops. The main feature of the day 
for us, however, was our visit to the Cathedral (an edifice 
which I have incidentally alluded to before), and we so timed 
our call, as to be there at noon, in order to hear the famous 
clock which it contains strike twelve. This piece of ma- 
chinery is of enormous size, and of most complicated char- 
acter. It stands in the south transept, near a side door, and 
daily collects a large crowd of people to see it perform the 



320 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

duties which its constructor allotted to it at meridian. It 
is an erect structure, some thirty or forty feet high, of 
Cathedral fashion, divided into stories, and ornamented with 
pillars and the other features of organ architecture. The 
division next the ground is the astronomical department, 
and indicates the days of the month, the month of the year, 
the year of the cycle, the mean time of the chief meridians 
of the earth, the date of'eclipses, the coming of comets, and 
the periods of other grand phenomena for many years in 
advance. Above, are some allegorical figures, and above 
them still, appears a panorama of the apostles, headed by 
St. Peter, who, the instant a huge cock crows from the top 
of the clock, commences striking the noon hour. St. Peter 
comes out of a little door, like a figure on a Swiss musical 
clock, delivers a blow upon the bell, and decorously departs. 
St. Matthew follows in like manner, and so the troupe go 
through, and when the last one vanishes, the cock above, 
who seems to have official supervision of the performance, 
claps his wings, fills his beautifully plumed throat, and de- 
livers a long crow of satisfaction, as if to say to the audi- 
ence, " all's right, my hearties ! and now you can go home 
to dinner." The crowd at this signal disperse, and chan- 
ticleer settles into repose. Having a little more curiosity 
than most of them, or perhaps being more willing to pay a 
fee to gratify it, I gave the custodian of the clock a florin, as 
a fee of admission for two ladies and myself, and had the 
satisfaction of mounting, by an inner stair-case, to the top. 
Our respect for the cock, however, was much diminished by 
this operation, for we found his voice was made by a bellows 
some four feet removed from him, while all he did for his 
fine reputation, was to swell his throat and flap his wings. 
He was, in short, a mere pretender, like the dummies who 
figure in chorus scenes at operas, and whose entire duty is, 



STRASBOURG. 321 

while the singing is going on, to open their mouths and occa- 
sionally move their hands. 

The remaining curiosities of the church are its choir, said 
to have been built as early as the time of Charlemagne, and 
its spire, claimed to be the highest in the world. One 
account makes it 466 feet, and another 474 feet, but either 
figure overtops all others, and excels in altitude the Pyra- 
mids of Egypt. The name of the architect of this structure 
has been more fortunate than that of the artist of the Cathe- 
dral of Cologne. He has been handed down as Erwin of 
Sleinbach, and his original designs are still preserved among 
the archives of the town. The next church of interest is the 
Protestant Church of St. Thomas, to which the stranger is 
chiefly attracted by a fine monument to Marshal Saxe, and 
two bodies in the crypts of a Count of Nassau and his 
daughter, which are shown to visitors on account of their 
preservation. We did not, however, take this direction. 
Churches and mummies were becoming stale things with 
us ; and, in the way of structures, glimpses had become as 
instructive to us as long examinations had been before. 

On returning to our 'hotel, we were met by Louis Cisi, 
who had just come from the bureau of police, with our pass- 
ports all duly vise, and warranting us to proceed whither 
we would, within the domains of France. None of us had 
been to the bureau ; none of us had been compared with the 
personal descriptions which these passports contained, yet 
they were endorsed " correct," and the domains of Prance 
lay open before us. I had undergone the same performance 
twice previously, and on neither occasion was my identity 
examined ; and for all the purposes of traveling, the pass- 
port of a person twice my size, would have answered quite 
as well as my own. The main object seems to be the col- 
lection of a certain amount of fees, and that being accom- 



14* 



322 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

plished, those concerned in them take no further interest 
in you. 

At half-past five we took the cars for Basle, and before the 
night set in, ran through some of the most magnificent 
mountain scenery, as well as rural plains, I yet had seen. 

Our course was southward along the line of the Vosges 
mountains, which rolled in the distance like monster billows 
frolicking along with our course, while from their feet spread 
a grand platform, divided into a thousand farms, filled with 
kine, and teeming with the most exuberant cultivation. 
Here the spectacle occurred again of women working in the 
fields, and the sight was oftener two women to one man, 
than an equal division of the laborers. As if in correspond- 
ence with the system of female labor, I also noticed that 
cows were yoked and worked like oxen. I observed that 
tobacco was cultivated here to some extent, and likewise 
that bunch willows were profusely reared in the way of 
hedges. I found upon inquiry, that the willows were made 
very serviceable in farming purposes, being cultivated to 
supply the place of hemp, and to be used as withes for 
tying bundles. At half-past ten we arrived at the hotel of 
the " Three Kings," at Basle, in Switzerland, glad to bring 
to a close a day's exploits which had began in Baden-Baden 
an hour before sunrise. 

In the morning I met several Americans at breakfast, and 
two or three Englishmen, all of whom had arrived from dif- 
ferent points, and were bent on scattering different ways. 
Some of the former were thoroughly disguised by heavy 
beards and mustachios, but we recognized each other inva- 
riably by a habit of salting our butter, which Europeans eat 
almost without flavor. When most of the company had 
retired from the table, I raised my head to look at a large, 
black muzzled man, who sat at the opposite end, and whom, 



BASLE. 323 

till that moment, I had taken for a German. He was knead- 
ing a lump of butter with his knife, into which he had 
thrown a quantity of salt, and I was engaged at the same 
moment in artistically tapping the blade of mine, prelim- 
inary to the same performance. We both smiled, and by 
common consent, as if no further introduction were neces- 
sary, exchanged the compliments of the morning. Under 
all his disguise, I knew him to be an American, and by the 
same salt criterion he knew me. Closer observation proved 
him to be a personal acquaintance, and a New Yorker. 

The beard of my friend was an admonition against two 
days of neglect on my part, so I went across the street to a 
little barber-shop, which put out the head of William Tell 
on a pole, as a sign of its calling. On entering, I found a 
young man, some nineteen years of age, busily engrossed in 
nursing the long tresses of the mistress of the shop, a buxom 
lady, who seemed to be of middle life. She seemed not at 
all disturbed but asked me very politely to sit for a few 
minutes in the adjoining room until the lad was done, and 
then he would attend on me. There seemed to be a con- 
scious pride in her manner, not exactly consistent with her 
dishabille, but while philosophizing on the subject, I recalled 
to mind the historical fact that the females of this region had 
once upon a time been forbidden, by law, the luxury of 
dressing the hair. The result is, that the ladies of Basle pet 
their tresses very much, and every female who can afford it, 
has them dressed as frequently as possible, as a mark of 
independence. I found nothing peculiar in my barber, except 
his persisting in not naming his price, preferring to leave the 
matter to my generosity. I did not like his compliment; 
it was an experiment that annoyed me, so I gave him the 
smallest sum which his job deserved. 

The Swiss, though industrious and honest, are a most mer- 



324 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

cenaiy people. " There is nothing," says the proverb, 
" that they will not do for money, and they will do nothing 
without." Though republicans in principle, and ardently 
attached to liberty at home, they have always been ready to 
hire themselves as soldiers to any despot to oppress any 
cause. They are not, however, to be blamed too much for 
their extreme thrift and parsimonious habits. Their very 
country, with its mean and niggard soil, inculcates it into 
their minds, and the excess of population which is produced 
by their virtuous, domestic lives, is annually driven forth to 
seek whatever offers in the way of employment, among 
other and more fertile nations. Being constitutionally brave 
and athletic, it is not strange that they should have been 
sought as soldiers ; and being faithful to the last degree, to 
those by whom they are employed, it is not strange either 
they should have been for ages selected as the body-guards 
of kings. The alterations in the state of affairs in Europe 
of late years, have not changed the relations of Switzerland in 
this respect. The chief of her productions is still armed 
men ; or rather men who are ready to take up arms for 
money in any public cause. It is not many years since a 
body of them perished almost to a man in defending an 
unfortunate King of France in his own palace; and the 
monarchs of Rome, Naples, and Sardinia, still entrust to 
them the defense which they dare not place in the hands of 
their own subjects. The people of Switzerland, however, 
whether in town or country make a good impression on the 
stranger. They are clean, robust, and industrious, and the 
mild, wholesome faces of the women, with their quiet aspect 
and simple manners, proclaim a domestic and virtuous 
people. 

The city of Basle has a population of about 21,000, nearly 
twenty thousand of whom are Protestants. Some of the 



BASLE. 325 

cantons of Switzerland, however, are Catholic, but nearly 
two-thirds of the whole country is devoted to the Protestant 
faith. Its government is purely republican, with the single 
exception of one canton, or county, out of the twenty-two, 
and that is the canton of Neuchatel, which is under the 
jurisdiction of the King of Prussia. All the other cantons 
are democracies, and in most of them the elections are 
annual, and the suffrage universal. The Supreme Govern- 
ment consists of a diet or Congress of representatives from 
each canton, who vote on great questions, according to the 
special instructions of their constituents. At the command 
of this diet 64,000 men may be enlisted for wars, under the 
same conditions as militia in the United States. 

The French language is the language of Basle, and among 
the richer classes French manners prevail, but everywhere 
in the streets you are met with a gravity and sedateness, 
which are quite opposite to the popular aspect of a French 
town. This may be accounted for, however, on other 
grounds than disposition. Basle is the stronghold of Meth- 
odism, and the severities of doctrine may add to the staid 
decorum of its citizens. 

Basle has quite a reputation and quite a history. It is 
the richest town in Switzerland, and during the Middle Ages 
it was the most warlike. I have not time to speak of its 
exploits now, but it is enough for its reputation to allude to 
the plains of Jacob, just beyond its outskirts, where a few 
hundred Swiss once met and routed forty thousand French. 
The environs of Basle are very picturesque, and well worthy 
of a drive. Being convinced of that, at an early hour in 
the day myself and party chartered two barouches, and set 
out for a ruined castle some three or four miles east. In 
about an hour we arrived at our destination, deposited our 
vehicles at the foot of the hill on which the ruin was perched, 



326 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

and commenced our ascent. Unfortunately for our progress, 
we struck a cherry orchard in our road, and spreading our- 
selves among the trees, lost an hour in a more- delightful 
pastime than we expected. By laborious degrees, up 
spiral paths, we at length reached the crown of the hill, 
and there, after considerable effort, during which we gave 
mortal offense to two or three large dogs, we succeeded in 
rousing the custodian of the ruin from a dilapidated lodge, 
which was strongly perched upon the very brink of the cliff. 
There was nothing in the ruin sufficiently at variance 
with other dilapidations of that character to warrant a par- 
ticular description, except some curiously constructed dun- 
geons underground, and a subterranean place of sepulture, 
where different members of the extinct family of the original 
possessors lie entombed. One of these dungeons has a well- 
like opening in the garden, and from the aperture you can 
look down frightful depths, and see the forms of persons 
moving around the custodian's lamp like shadows flitting in 
Pandemonium, or souls groping in purgatory. In another 
part of the garden we were shown a little hut, which on 
entering we found to contain the figure of an ancient Her- 
mit, who on our approach suddenly started, moved his 
head towards us, and turned an hour-glass as if in admoni- 
tion of the lapse of time. The ladies screamed a little 
when the automaton first moved, but happily they recov- 
ered their equanimity without fainting. On descending the 
hill we had another bout with the cherry orchard, and arri- 
ving at the inn, spread ourselves about the door in true 
Swiss fashion, and eat our bread and Gruyere cheese, and 
drank our wine, as if it had been the custom of our lives. 
"We only suffered one drawback to our repast, and that was 
the presence of a dung-heap and a drain beside it, which 
stood directly by the door ; objects not only offensive to 



BASLE 



327 



the eye, but also to the nose, Nevertheless, this prologue 
to a dwelling is a common sight in Switzerland, and it mat- 
ters not how clean and well kept a house may be, its chief- 
est feature is a dung-heap before the door, to season the 
atmosphere for yards around. Nay, it seems to be a monu- 
ment of pride, for great art is bestowed upon its erection, 
the most favorite method being to tuck the straw ends of 
the successive layers in, so that the tumulus resembles a 
huge mound of blanket cakes. As to the pool which floats 
beside it, nothing can redeem its offensiveness to a stranger's 
eye ; yet so familiar is it to the Swiss, that I have seen 
children shoving little boats on its disgusting surface with 
one hand, while they held pieces of bread in the other ; the 
mother of the group all the time standing in her doorway, 
and looking with complacent satisfaction upon the innocent 
gambols of her brood. 

On our return to the city, I called upon the American 
Consul, and after an interesting conversation about the peo- 
ple he was placed among, went forth with him to the library 
of the town to seek out maps, by way of determining what 
route I should select through Switzerland, and downwards 
towards Rome. On our road he pointed out to me the 
Cathedral which contained the tombs of Erasmus, and Anne 
the Empress of Rodolph of Hapsburg, and he introduced 
me to a reading-room, where I had the pleasure of seeing 
my own paper on file. In the evening the Consul called on 
me, and finding the circumstance a good one for making a 
decided stroke in relation to the Italian visions of the party 
I was with, I drew forth his views as to the safety of such 
a jaunt, at the then present time. I thought I had ascer- 
tained them to be favorable before I put him in such a 
responsible position, but to my utter surprise he took 
ground against me, and left only the slight crevice to work 



828 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

back through, that there would probably be no-danger in a 
stay in Rome of three or four days. The young ladies 
looked at me reproachfully for having introduced this evi- 
dence in the case so unadvisedly, but I excused myself by 
whispering aside, that the change arose out of the Consul's 
superior regard for their health over mine. I added, how- 
ever, that now that I was responsible for a drawback, I was 
doubly bound to see them through to their wished-for des- 
tination. I therefore bade them to be of good cheer, and 
they retired, despite their disappointment, stronger in hope 
than before. Before the council closed, Louis Cisi was 
directed to take seven places in the morning diligence for 
Berne, and I went forth to meet Dr. Moffat, of New York, 
(who had just come in from the south,) to talk politics with 
him at one of the principal cafes of the town. Before ten 
o'clock, however, everything gave evidence that the town was 
going to bed, so taking the hint, we retraced our steps to the 
Hotel of the Three Kings, and followed the decorous exam- 
ple by going to bed ourselves. 



July, 1851. 

The Swiss Diligence — The Scenery of the Jura — The Valley 
of the Suze — Bienne. 



I rose at five o'clock on the second morning of my 
arrival in Basle, to take the diligence at six, for a ride of 
eighty-seven miles to Berne, and in due time found myself 
and the party to which I was attached, gathered before the 
vehicle which was to be our conveyance for the day. I 
confess I was somewhat struck with the establishment. 
This was the first time 1 had closely noticed a pure conti- 
nental diligence, and certainly the first time I had ever 
engaged to entrust myself to one. My notions of them, as 
I had seen them enter Paris, now and then, were that they 
were rather large-sized, clumsy omnibuses, drawn by large- 
footed, stupid-looking horses, stuffed with passengers inside, 
and piled with trunks without ; but now that I got near, 
their importance increased, as the proportions of a Colossus 
are increased when viewed at the top of the column on 
which he is placed. 

The huge vehicle which our courier had chartered for us, 
was a veritable ship on wheels, and took its freight from a 
vast pile of trunks and boxes which lumbered the street 
around, with the same capacity of stowage, as if it had been 



330 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

a real bark, swallowing a whole wharf load of merchandise 
within its hold. The worst of it was, that in this case, the 
monster did not take its cargo in its belly, but piled it on 
its roof, relying upon our mortal weight inside to operate 
as ballast. Upon a Swiss or German calculation, there 
might have been some sense in this arrangement, but being, 
all of us, only of medium American avoirdupois, the disparity 
was frightful. For passengers, the diligence had three 
divisions : the main body or central division, holding six ; 
the coupe in front, holding three ; and a sort of open coop, 
which was called a bottvette, perched up in the rear, on a level 
with the roof, holding as many more. The coupe was the 
choice place, but that had been bespoke by a couple of wary 
travelers two days before, so there was nothing left but the 
body and the bouvette. Choosing the latter, along with 
Louis Cisi and the guard, because it afforded me a wider 
view of the country than I could have got through the small 
coach window, I mounted, by a very skillful effort, over a 
set of zig-zag steps that would have answered for the pur- 
poses of ascent to the second story of a house, and perched 
myself snugly in one corner of my lofty seat. After half 
an hour's delay beyond the time, the baggage, protected by 
a black leather covering, was duly buekled on. the roof; five 
strong, heavy horses were harnessed to, the driver cracked 
his whip, and we swung and thundered off, the motion of 
our weight shaking up the entire district of the town through 
which we drove, and sifting the more forward of its mem- 
bers towards the doors and windows to see us pass. My 
sensations were at first rather uneasy, I felt the great vehicle 
oscillate from side to side, as if it threatened to keel over 
against the houses, but when we got into the open country, 
and it leaned at times over the edge of a declivity, or nod- 
ded on the brink of a river, I considered my situation to be 



THE SWISS DILIGENCE. 



331 



positively alarming. But by-and-by I became accustomed 
to the motion, and being strengthened by the nonchalance 
of the courier and the guard, soon got so bold that I took a 
sort of pleasure in the peril. 

There were many novelties, too, to divert my thoughts 
from apprehension. The scenery had become peculiarly 
Swiss. Mountains, valleys, foaming streams, grassy slopes, 
wooded heights, frowning rocks, and pastoral tableaux, were 
the continually succeeding features ; and to enliven our way 
the more, we every now and then dashed through some 
sto-ned-paved village, the driver adding to the nourish by 
cracking his whip for some five minutes on a stretch, seem- 
ing to take a peculiar pleasure in discharging the report at 
the second story windows, by way of eliciting the smiles of 
the damsels who came forth, and of deserving the " hoorays " 
of the delighted urchins who gathered in the road. I was 
so occupied by the novelty of this performance in the two 
first villages we passed, that I did not observe Louis Cisi 
and the guard kissing their hands on both sides of the way ; 
but extending my observation on that point, I found that 
some of the ladies in the central region of the diligence 
were amusing themselves in like manner with the good- 
natured female faces that appeared at the house doors. 
The exhilaration was irresistible, I joined in with the rest, 
and we went along thenceforth like revelers on a holiday, 
who were continually passing through detachments of their 
friends to some general fair. At intervals of seven or seven 
and a half miles, we stopped to change horses, and to leave 
and receive the mail. On such occasions we would tumble 
out, hand some change to the driver and guard for " drink 
health;" and perhaps ourselves patronize the inn where we 
drew up, in the way of its red wine, or it might be of cher- 
ries, which were now in high harvest and very fine. The 



332 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

fee of " drink health " is an obligation which custom places 
on the pockets of those who occupy the coupe. That is 
considered the best seat ; it commands a view of the driver's 
exertions, and it pays its premium by administering to his 
comfort. It is usual for the passengers in the bouvette also 
to contribute, and also help to take charge of the guard, or 
more properly speaking, the conductor. The latter person 
has charge of the interior arrangements of the vehicle, and 
it is likewise his duty to receive and discharge the mails. 
His seat is properly located in the coupe ; but on this occa- 
sion our conductor had sold it out, for an exchange in the 
bouvette, at the price of five francs for the day. At a later 
period he sold his seat in the bouvette to another inside pas- 
senger at a further advance of five francs, taking a place 
with the driver in the front. At a later period still, when 
it commenced to rain, he retreated from the perch in front, 
levied an extra five francs on the man in the coupe, on the 
ground that no stipulation had been made he should remain 
outside if it rained. To balance this, he imposed as much 
more from the customer in the bouvette, on the same irre- 
sistible principle. Feeling then that he could afford to get 
wet, he put on a heavy cloak, borrowed an umbrella from 
the department of the centre, and took the showers as they 
came. 

After leaving Basle we soon struck the valley of the river 
Birs, and followed its banks for hours, as it sinuously wound 
along, now between defiles and gorges, now through open- 
ing valleys, and occasionally over something like a plain ; 
but pouring always toward us, and leading us up a continual 
ascent in the direction of its source in the mountains of the 
Jura. Ever since I left Cologne, all the water I have met 
has set against me. I had either been upon the Rhine or its 
tributaries, and they all the while flowed downward to the 

1 ' 



SCENERY OF THE JURA. 333 

sea. I consequently have been continually ascending, and 
with the exception of an occasional decline, must continue to 
do so, until 1 cross the Alps to descend upon the plains of 
Italy. The results of this are, an increase of cold in the 
atmosphere, which makes me regret the imprudence of hav- 
ing left my overcoat in Paris, and which, though the month 
is July, gives me a very keen reminiscence of a New York 
October. Now and then, however, as the showers cease, it 
becomes more mild, and I can rest without discomfort in my 
airish seat. 

As we progressed, the road became wilder, and we found 
ourselves among the towering mountains and deep denies 
of the Munster Thai, or Val Moutier. Along this line is 
said to be found some of the grandest scenery in the world. 
For a long distance cultivation disappears. Nature relin- 
quishes her softer features, and seems to have employed her 
vigor in Titanic freaks. Long files of mountains stand in 
grim array, straining over each other's heads. Enormous 
masses of disintegrated rock lie here and there, as if they 
had been used as pellets in some mighty warfare. Black 
overhanging cliffs frown upon your path ; narrow and fright- 
ful gorges, lined with solemn firs and filled with the roar of 
unseen cataracts, hidden by tangled jungles from the eye, 
yawn from your feet. Anon appear awful lateral chasms, 
as if the earth had been smitten by some mighty stone- 
breaker ; and bolt upright, with peculiar regularity, stand 
great side walls of naked rock, like the ruins of some mon- 
ster castle, where none but giants lived, and which nothing 
but gigantic power could destroy. The road winds pain- 
fully through this terrible defile, continually up, up, up, coil 
by coil, against the face of the repulsive rock, sometimes 
with but a thread of footpath between you and the edge, 
and nothing for your trust but the faithfulness of five dumb 



334 EUROPE IK A HURRY. 

beasts, and the care and experience of an almost as dumb a 
driver. 

For hours we scaled these dreadful precipices, frequently 
holding our breath, clenching our hands, and looking down 
with awe, as the huge top-heavy vehicle balanced itself over 
some ravine, or uttering an exclamation as it trembled on 
the brink of some ledge, as if doubtful it could hold it poise. 

The side walls of naked rock of which I speak, present a 
most singular appearance, and at first sight you are disposed 
to regard them as lateral partitions of some blighted castle ; 
but a little attention to their enormous size cures that illu- 
sion and you see them as one of the phenomena which 
Nature is so fond of multiplying in this region of her freaks. 
They are the result of volcanic action, and are met with in 
their greatest grandeur near Courendelen, about mid-day. 
Indeed the whole valley is produced by a great volcanic rent 
in the dense body of the Jura, and the small foothold that 
we find, has been won from the rock by the artifice of man, 
or lodged upon its sharp and ragged shingles by the sedi- 
ment of centuries. It was the great avenue by which the 
persevering Romans made their way to the fairest provinces 
of Central Europe, and it is still the principal route by which 
the north seeks its intercourse with Italy. 

About two miles beyond these side refts in the mountain, 
we came to a place called Moutiers Grand Val, and a short 
distance further on, to a snug little village called, I think, 
Tavannes, where we got dinner. We had now reached a 
great elevation, and I found the weather so penetrating, that 
after I had secured my meal, I went about the house endeav- 
oring to purchase a blanket to serve the purpose of a 
wrapper. On meeting with the landlord of the inn, however, 
I did better than I thought, for he generously lent me his 
own cloth cloak, exacting no further condition for its use, 



VALLEY OF THE SUZE. 



335 



than that I should leave it with his brother in Berne, who 
was the keeper of the fine Hotel de la Couronne, in that 
place. With this protection, a flask of Holland gin under 
my arm, and six segars in my side pocket, I climbed back 
to my perch, quite sure that I should be able to endure the 
open bouvette, long enough to enjoy the remaining features 
of the route. Presently we struck the valley of the Suze, 
the first stream I had met whose waters took a direction to 
the south, and we began slowly to descend towards Bienne. 
I recollect remarking to Louis Cisi shortly after we had com- 
menced enjoying this descent, that I thought I could perceive 
a very sensible moderation in the temperature, and I recol- 
lect, too, that Louis Cisi agreed with me at once, but whether 
these impressions were in accordance with the tone of the 
barometer, or whether they resulted from the cloak and the 
good cheer I had enjoyed, is yet an unsettled point in my 
mind. It maybe as well to mention that the conductor also 
took his segar out of his mouth to agree with us, a combi- 
nation of authority which might be irresistible, had not all 
of it been liable to the same arbitrary influences. 

As we followed the romantic line of the Suze, the country 
continued to improve ; the slopes of the hills here and there 
showed patches of cultivation, with now and then a clump 
of cottages, and now and then a mill which took its stand 
at some bubbling fall, to tax the powers of the stream. In 
parts, the country opened and presented us with little plains, 
the most pleasant features of which were the pastoral groups 
of shepherd boys with their crooks and dogs and flocks, and 
the most repugnant of which was, the sight of women strad- 
dling in the fields with scythe in hand, mowing down the 
grain. 

Before reaching Berne we came to another chasm in our 
route, through which the Suze plunged and fretted at tre- 



336 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

mendous depths ; we, therefore, were obliged to leave it 
for a while and make a new ascent more perilous than any 
we had made before. So precipitous was it in parts, that 
often we were glad to leave the diligence and ease the load 
the horses had to draw. Notwithstanding this relief, so con- 
tinuous was the strain upon the faithful animals, that the 
driver was forced to lay aside his coat, in order to prolong 
his power to crack his whip beside their ears by way of 
reminding them that there was to be no pause. I thus had 
a good chance to notice how the team worked, and likewise 
to approve the superior tact with which the pull was man- 
aged. French and Swiss horses make a toilsome ascent 
much easier than American horses do. The latter are too 
much curbed and checked by harness for the sake of style 
and show, but the continental horse wears no check rein, 
and when he goes up hill he drops his head well downward, 
throws his shoulders forward with it, and thus contributes to 
a dead pull a deal of weight that would otherwise be wasted 
in a nourish. The horses here, however, are of a different 
race and breed from those we use in the United States. 
They are always kept in their natural state, but though they 
thus retain attributes of spirit in its first degree, they do not 
show half so much of it as do the geldings of our country. 
They are patient and drowsy, and endure with indifference a 
cracking of the whip about their ears that would make our 
neutral steeds revolt beyond the power of control. Authority, 
in any shape, receives in this part of the world more defe- 
rence and submission than on the western shores of the 
Atlantic ; even among the horses. 

After descending from this latter height, the road soon 
brought us to a turn that suddenly opened to our eyes a 
magnificent plain of several miles in extent, diversified by 
many colored crops. Pursuing the circuit a little further, 



BERNE. 337 

we obtained a distant view of the small town of Bienne, 



lying on the edge of the deep blue lake of the same name. 
To help the prospect, the sun came out and gilded the scene 
up to the highest point of beauty. We descended the hill 
at a tremendous pace, and soon found ourselves rattling our 
way through the centre of the town, the coachman's whip 
cracking a jubilee for his arrival, and summoning every body- 
out of doors to celebrate our entrance. In a few minutes 
we were off again, meeting the Suze once more beyond the 
town, and crossing it by a bridge. We then crossed another 
bridge a little further on, over a river called the Zhil, which 
drains the lake of Berne, and empties itself into the river 
Aar about four miles further to the east. From this point 
to Berne, we found the country very fine. The cottages 
were of a better character than any we had yet seen, and on 
every side we beheld increasing evidence of prosperity and 
comfort. But soon darkness closed in the comfortable 
rural scene, and most of our passengers, male and female, 
betook themselves to the refreshment of a nap, till nine 
o'clock deposited us at the comfortable Hotel de la Couronne 
in Berne. 



15 



July, 1851. 

Berne — Lucerne — Altorf—The Passage of the Alps — The 
DeviVs Bridge — The Break - Down — Faido. 

I found the town of Berne to be one of the most inter- 
esting places I had seen in Europe. Everything in it is 
peculiar ; but most peculiar is the prevalence of bears in 
every shape and style, from the stone emblems which meet 
you at the gates, to the living occupants of the Barengraba, 
or Bear's Ditch, in the outskirts of the town. This is ex- 
plained by the fact that the town has Bears for its arms, 
and its foundation is connected with a legend which makes 
that animal held in the utmost veneration by the people. 
Throughout the architecture of the place they are the pre- 
vailing ornament ; they supply the figure of dolphins in 
aqueducts, of lions in monuments, of knights in allegories, 
and the Barengraba, of which I have spoken, consists of two 
enormous pits or cells, just at the gates of the town, provi- 
ded by Government for the ease and support, at public ex- 
pense, of some of the finest specimens of the Bruin species 
that can be obtained. In the Museum, you are shown a 
great variety of the animal in preservation, from the grand 
polar monarch in his shaggy fleece, to the small brown cub, 
whining at its mother's dugs. At table, in your hotel, you 
are very likely, on calling for refreshment, to be confronted 



BERNE. 339 

by some china or silver Bruin, with his paws held up as if 
he were imploring you to drink out of his mouth. For a 
time, your attention is continually attracted by bears, bears, 
bears, until at length you reject the reproduction by conclu- 
ding that Berne is the paradise of bears, and therefore no 
more observation or reflection is to be bestowed on that 
branch of its philosophy. 

The general aspect of Berne is very ancient. The dwel- 
lings are mostly built of stone, with pent-house roofs; and 
arcades below and piazzas above, prevail in all the principal 
streets. Underneath the arcades are situated retail stores, 
and there, in rainy or in hot weather, the Bernese choose 
their walk ; while, at more favorable times, they take the 
open street. No description of weather, however, confines 
a person in doors, for, except in crossing from one corner to 
another, there is no liability to exposure, and the bazaars are 
likely to be as -gay with company on an inclement day as 
on a fine one. But the walk in the open street is to a stran- 
ger much to be preferred, for it not only shows you the 
queer faces of the buildings, but exhibits a panorama of the 
dwelling windows that is much more interesting than the 
panorama of the shops, for in these windows, on piles of 
gaudy cushions, may be seen ladies and gentlemen reclining 
with oriental languor, respectively smoking, reading, or chat- 
ting, as they occasionally lean forward to look forth. 

The streets of Berne are wide, and paved with a broad 
square stone, somewhat similar to our Russ stone, but laid 
at right angles, as in London and Paris, instead of being set 
diagonally. For the purpose of cleanliness, the surface is 
convex, and in the centre of the street is turned a branch of 
the river Aar. This is covered with flags in many places, 
but in others it is an open, swift canal, some two feet wide, 
relieved at intervals with ornamental basins and fountains 



340 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of large size, at which the washerwomen of the place con- 
gregate to talk, and work. Having thus performed their 
tasks, in open convention, as it were, they lug their burdens 
off, and spread the clothes in the high roofs to dry at leisure, 
beyond the reach of the rains and the frequent fogs to which 
the neighborhood is subject. To aid this purpose, the dor- 
mer windows are built of an enormous size, with open aper- 
tures to let in the air, and with projecting eaves to keep out 
the storm. 

The finest sight in Berne is obtained from a place called 
the "Platform," at the rear of the Cathedral, and elevated 
by a wall of masonry, a hundred and eighty feet above the 
banks of the river and the lower town. Here, over miles 
of country, I got a view of the black range of the Jura, 
through which I had toiled the day before, and in another 
quarter I discerned the distant Bernese Alps, their snow- 
clad peaks mixing with the clouds. At first I took these 
peaks to be clouds themselves, but at the hint of my guide, 
I traced their sharp lines as they pierced the fleece of heaven, 
and defined them to look like spires of frosted silver, man- 
tled in parts with spangled tissue. Below me, and on three 
sides of the town ran the swift Aar, and in the centre of the 
stream stood a small island to divide the current and give 
it still greater force. This island is called the "Ise of 
Baths," and being considered a sort of neutral ground be- 
tween the two shores, it is filled, as my guide informed me, 
with nymphs, who wait upon the visitor, and improvise, at 
his command, any of the features of Mahommed's paradise. 
This is a strange circumstance in the very centre of so 
chaste a clime, and it is still more strange, that so strict 
and virtuous a people as the Swiss should suffer it to thrive 
under their very eyes. But so it is, and a " Berne bath" is 
as familiarly understood all over Europe, as are any of the 



BERNE. 341 

obliquities of Paris. Perhaps the sufferance proceeds from 
the fact that Berne considers herself, as she is, the chief 
town of Switzerland, and like all capitals, may tolerate 
certain extraordinary features, as a sacrifice for great- 
ness. She might, however, very well content herself with 
her libraries, museums, magazines, hospitals, schools, and 
mint, and yet be ahead of any other native municipal com- 
petitor. 

The museums of Berne are very good, and in the one 
allotted to natural history, I saw, besides the bears, the 
" preservation" of the celebrated dog " Barry," that noble 
friend of man, who saved so many lives by his exertions in 
the snowy passes of the great St. Bernard. There is a fine 
repose and natural dignity in the attitude and mien of this 
natural philanthropist, and my feelings paid him as profound 
respect as I stood riveted upon his form, as if he had been 
of a superior race. 

The environs of Berne are beautiful, and it has also 
some delightful interior promenades; but before I close 
the enumeration of its sights, I must not omit to give it 
credit for a cathedral four hundred and thirty years old, 
and a town-clock which, like that of Strasbourg, makes a 
parade of the apostles every time it strikes the hour of 
twelve. 

One day in Berne seemed to be sufficient for our party, 
so we took places in the diligence, and started at seven in 
the morning for Lucerne. The day was rainy, as it had 
been during the passage of the Val Moutier, and the inci- 
dents, so far as the diligence was concerned, did not much 
vary from the incidents of that occasion. The aspect of 
the country was, however, different. It was more subdued, 
and in the early part of the day was distinguished by the 
frequent appearance of little chapels by the roadside, and 



342 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

with figures of the cross and Savior, crowned with flowers, 
and set up at the entrance of villages, to proclaim to the 
visitor its Romish faith. We also this day met with, in some 
of the close valleys, men and women wearing beneath their 
chins the horrible swelling or excrescence called the goitre, 
to which affliction so many of the Swiss are subject. We 
likewise beheld some of the " cretins" or born idiots of the 
clime, standing gibbering at the cottage doors, or dancing 
out into the road with the most revolting grimaces, asking 
us for alms. After dinner, which we took at one o'clock, 
we got into a more prosperous and better cultivated coun- 
try, and as the weather lighted up, found inclination and 
opportunity to admire the improving aspect of the cottages. 
These now appeared with very ornamental fronts, tacked 
all over the surface in little scale-like shingles, making their 
outside resemble a closely woven coat of mail, or the husk 
of the pine-tree fruit. We noticed, moreover, that their 
broad roofs were in all cases heavily laden with huge pieces 
of rock, from the peak to the eaves, and on inquiring the 
reason, learned that they were thus protected from the 
powerful winds that pour between the mountains, which 
would otherwise whirl them off. The scenery kept on 
improving through the afternoon, and developed itself 
beautifully as it opened on Lucerne at five o'clock. The 
weather had then quite cleared up, and we had a fine view 
of the lake and the features which immediately surround 
the town. 

The situation of Lucerne is exceedingly picturesque. It 
sits at the very head of the lake, as if it were presiding over 
its blue waters. On the right hand rises Mount Pilate, its 
majestic head enveloped in the clouds, and extending in the 
distance, right and left, appears a circle of high mountains, 
amid whose labyrinths the lake is lost. Far beyond, rise 



LUCERNE. 843 

the glistening summits of the snowy Alps, a striking con- 
trast to the summer aspect of Lucerne and the Italian lan- 
guor of the embosomed scene which its environs enclose. 
We found a superb hotel, indeed a perfect palace, situated 
directly on the edge of the lake, and from its piazza 
enjoyed the sweetest picture, and most abounding in all the 
elements of beauty, that we yet had met. A short walk 
through the town well repaid us for our labor, but we were 
most largely gratified by a visit to a place called the Pfyffer 
Garden, where we saw Thorwaldsen's colossal lion, cut in 
the solid rock, to commemorate the massacre of the Swiss 
Guard of Louis XVI., who fell at Paris in resisting the 
attack made on the Tuilleries, on the 10th August, 1792. 
The noble animal is transfixed with an arrow and declines in 
death. To the last moment he grasps a shield bearing the 
emblems of the Bourbons, while his countenance bears an 
expression of pain and sadness, of despair and dignity that 
could scarcely be exceeded by the lineaments of the human 
face. It made a profound impression on me, and I invo- 
luntarily accredited it, in my judgment, as the best piece of 
European sculpture I had seen. In the way of lions, I had 
been quite surfeited in England, but the progeny of that 
quarter resembled this no nearer, than a Shetland pony 
would an Arabian barb. 

On returning to our hotel at dusk, a grand family council 
was called as to our future course. The snowy Alps were 
in sight, and it was necessary that a decision should be made 
whether they were to be crossed by my friends on the fol- 
lowing day, or whether they should diverge to Lake Geneva 
for a northern route, leaving me to push forward to the 
plains of Italy alone. The family spread themselves anx- 
iously about a circular table, guide books were produced, 
maps examined, and calculations sagely made with the aid 



344 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of a lead pencil, as to the number of days it would require 
to go as far, at least, as Venice. All were pretty well 
fatigued, but not an eye winked during the discussion, and the 
council finally broke up with a decision to pursue with me 
the direct onward course. Then a long breath of satisfac- 
tion was drawn by the younger members of the audience, 
and it was decided that we should take the steamboat that 
ran down the lake to Fluellen, in the morning. 

We rose at daybreak, and at five o'clock were off, the 
peak of Mount Pilate, looming clear of clouds, and by that 
strange contradiction of appearances, promising us a storm. 
Sure enough, a few minutes after our departure, the rain 
began to descend ; the surface of the lake was spoiled, and 
we saw all the grand scenery of the borders, through a dim 
and misty veil. On our way we noticed several market 
boats pulling stoutly for the town, some of them heavily 
laden with produce, and some of the deepest laden rowed by 
women. On our way down we passed William Tell's 
chapel, on the northern shore, saw the celebrated Mount 
Rhigi, and reviewed every variety of scenery, from the 
savage to the soft, on either side. Fortunately the storm 
was not attended with any violence, as is often the case on 
this lake, and we landed in safety at the small town of 
Fluellen, at its lower extremity, at half-past seven o'clock ; 
or as Louis Cisi would have said, after a passage of ten 
quarters of an hour. 

After a pretty good soaking in our debarkation, we took 
coaches to Altorf, and there took the diligence for our passage 
over the Alps, by the famous pass of Mount St. Gothard. 
Altorf is situated at the northern end of that pass, and is 
otherwise celebrated as the scene of William Tell's appeal 
to the Swiss, against the oppression of the tyrant Gesler. 
As we rode through the town, there was pointed out to us a 



PASSAGE OF THE ALPS. 345 

tower, covered with paintings in honor of William Tell, which 
is said to mark the identical spot whence he shot the apple 
off his son's head. 

From Altorf the road began to ascend, and after a while 
we worked our way above the region of rain, and found our- 
selves in a more tolerable atmosphere, though still wet and 
cold. We fortified ourselves against this however, and 
against the effect of the previous soaking we had endured, by 
a few instalments of spirits, and then wrapped ourselves up 
and reclined in our places with tolerable comfort. As we 
wound up higher, the sun came out brightly and genially, 
and notwithstanding we were fast approaching the region of 
snow, we were enabled to throw off our cloaks, and now and 
then jump out and scramble across rocky short cuts, for 
exercise, while the diligence was lumbering around some 
tortuous circuit of the mountain side. 

At the start of our ride, we passed through groves of 
lofty chestnut trees, the finest I had ever seen ; as we 
ascended we left them behind, and found in their places hem- 
locks, oak, beech, and elm ; and higher still we met the 
pine, the fir and the larch. These grow in gorges, swing in 
chasms, stand on subsidiary peaks, or array themselves on 
ledges, like watchmen, guarding the savage solitude through 
which we pierced. By-and-by they gave out altogether, and 
the chilled and peevish earth threw out only a sparse cover- 
ing of dryish looking grass, that seemed a parody on vege- 
tation, and appeared almost as destitute of nourishment as 
the snow which laid above it, and trickled its contributions 
to the cataracts that fell on every side. Some of the defiles 
into which we were plunged, were most terrible in their 
appearance, the black and riven walls rising hundreds of 
feet above us, and the spiteful river, whose descent we 
climbed, raging at us over its broken bed as if a thousand 



.15* 



346 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

demons were squabbling at the bottom, and warning us 
from any invasion of their purgatory. The most awful of 
these gorges, and where the Reuss ran wildest, was a pass 
called the Devil's Bridge. It was so steep that the male 
passengers preferred to relieve the diligence, and make the 
pass on foot. Formerly it was considered very dangerous, 
but now a new bridge securely spans the cataract, and you 
cross without any apprehension. As you look down, how- 
ever, at the remains of the old bridge, and view its mean 
proportions, you can scarcely restrain a shudder at the idea 
of the perils a vehicle must have undergone, which ven- 
tured on its narrow thread. 

Having passed the bridge, the elderly gentleman, whose 
family were in the coach, turned with me to view the scene 
behind. We paused a moment, electrified with the awful 
grandeur of the picture. In the next, it conquered us, and 
without reflection, and without power of restraint, we both 
threw our arms in the air, and shouted, or rather screamed 
with all our might and main. Our pent-up feelings found 
as much relief by that escape as if we had cured a different 
emotion by a flood of tears. The strain which had been 
upon our imaginations had made us grave, anxious, reserved, 
and almost sad, but now we relaxed into ease again, and de- 
veloped our sensations in a flood of conversation. Our shout 
had attracted the attention of the ladies in the coach, and they 
peeped from the windows and joined in our salute by clap- 
ping their hands, while the other male passengers, taking the 
cue, applauded in like manner the magnificence of the scene. 
It was a strange sight. There we were — a motley company, 
composed of French, English, German, and American, differ- 
ing in temperament and habit, varying in religious creeds, but 
all thrilled alike with awe and paying united homage to the 
power and grandeur of the Almighty as exhibited in his works. 



PASSAGE OF THE ALPS. 347 

The snow, which till now had been above us, began to 
appear beside the road, and now and then we would pass a 
deposit in a hollow many feet in depth — too deep to be con- 
quered by the feeble summer sun, until returning winter re- 
enforce its mass. At noon we reached a little plain, which, 
though quite blank of cultivation, seemed like a Paradise 
after the rude country of precipices and denies through 
which we had toiled ; and a little beyond this we came to 
the " Hospice," where the charitable monks have lodged 
themselves to give succor to the bewildered traveler among 
the snows. Near the Hospice, we found a very comforta- 
ble inn, where we changed horses and had dinner, and where, 
also, we had the gratification to get a mountain trout, which 
had been caught hard by in a basin of the Eeuss. As a 
memento of the place, I bought before starting a collection 
of Alpine flowers, which are gathered here and preserved 
neatly in a book for the benefit of travelers. From the 
Hospice we pushed on with our fresh team, now and then 
meeting enormous drays, with teams of five and six gigan- 
tic horses, conveying merchandize from Italy by this route, 
to the consumption or manufactories of Switzerland. Our 
road now became more steep and zig-zag than before, and so 
abrupt at times that it resembled a perpendicular winding 
stairs, or a rope coiled to and fro so as to win an inclina- 
tion that might be conquered, out of the otherwise inacces- 
sible height. 

We were now in the region of perpetual snow, and as the 
slow progress of the diligence permitted it, the whole party 
turned out and had a snow-balling match in commemora- 
tion of a passage of the Alps on the 18th of July. At two 
o'clock or thereabouts, we reached the apex of the pass, the 
snow walling us on either side, and a half frozen lake or re- 
servoir meeting us at the top, as the source, or one of the 



348 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

sources of the river Ticino, which was to conduct us down- 
ward into Italy. There were two houses on this height, both 
rudely built of stone, and occupied by those who have 
charge of the ascending and descending teams. At one of 
them our horses were changed, and while this was going on 
I entered the other and made prize of a chubby infant which 
sat alone in the middle of the floor, and brought it forth for 
the examination of our crowd. A mother soon turned up 
for the child, however, and when I rendered it back, she 
passed it to the hands of all the passengers, who each in 
turn covered its fresh and frosty cheek with kisses, and filled 
its little fists with crowns. The mother all the while looked 
as smiling and contented as if she were a native of Paradise, 
instead of being an inhabitant of the inhospitable and cheer- 
less apex of the Alps. 

We had made the ascent with five horses, but now that 
we were going downward, we took but three, and truth to 
say, we found those three too many. The road was steeper, 
if anything, than we had found it on the ascending side, and 
we were obliged to run though the short coils of a wind- 
ing stairs hundreds of feet above the level of the valley, 
with fence to bind us in. Nevertheless, though the bare 
sight of this, even by a man on foot, was enough to cause a 
shudder, the reckless driver, as if merely to show his daring, 
drove down at headlong speed, and as we whistled round 
the turns, (which we made at every hundred yards or so,) 
we could feel the coach raise upon its side wheels, and 
threaten to spin over into the abyss. There was not a per- 
son in the diligence who did not feel alarm at these fearful 
turnings, but our ignorance confided in the driver's expe- 
rience, and prevented us from making a remonstrance. Af- 
ter a little while, we wished we had, for as we were rattling 
down a steep descent through a narrow gorge, with the 



THE BREAK-DOWN. 349 

Ticino foaming hundreds of yards below, the iron shoe that 
was fixed to the left hand wheel broke away, and discharged 
us like a shot against the rock. Fortunately, the chasm 
was on the right hand, or we would have gone over, and not 
enough been left of us or our vehicle, in half an hour, to 
make a stick for a parasol. As it was, the whole front corner 
of the diligence was stove in, one axletree was broken, and 
the conductor and driver were discharged against the rock, 
and fell among the feet of the horses. Both luckily escaped, 
however, without being very badly hurt. Most fortunate 
of all, the well bred animals who drew us stood stock still, 
and thus our lives were saved. The conductor, as soon as 
he had recovered, made many apologies for the accident, 
and set off to a station in the rear to get a new vehicle to 
take us on, but as we were now only three or four miles 
from Faido, our destination for the day, we concluded to do 
the rest of our perilous journey on foot. We did not regret 
the change. The exercise was refreshing, and we were ena- 
bled to enjoy some peace of mind. At sun-down we reach- 
ed Faido, and put up at the Hotel of the Angels, well 
chartered for a hearty supper and sound sleep, by the 
fatigues we had undergone throughout the day. 



July, 1851. 

Italian Switzerland — Lugano — Como — Milan — The Tragedy 
of Love. 

My last letter left me deposited at the Hotel of the An- 
gels, at Faido, the termination of the day's journey of those 
who make a crossing, southward, of the Alps, and it is the 
duty of this letter to rouse me up at four o'clock, to resume 
the diligence at five, in order to complete the journey to 
Milan. It was Sunday morning, and though the sun had 
just touched the summits of the hills that bound in the vil- 
lage on every side, the bell was tolling for mass, and the 
inhabitants were streaming towards the chapel of the place 
to make their weekly shrift. The whole village seemed to 
be alive, and notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, the 
dames and damsels who made an attractive mosaic of the 
crowd, were as carefully dressed as if they had prepared 
their toilet for high noon. The appearance of the people, 
however, both male and female, had much changed. Though 
still in Switzerland, the characteristics of the Swiss race had 
disappeared, and yielded entirely to the Italian. The street 
signs too indicated Italian to be the language of the place; 
and also unmistakably Italian were the large dark eyes, 
brown cheeks, and handsome features of almost every person 
who went by. Now and then a square built Swiss maiden, 



ITALIAN SWITZERLAND. 351 

with her unrestrained form, high cheek bones and small gray 
eyes, would pass along, but only often enough to show the 
contrast between the two races, and to claim admiration for 
the superior forms and graceful carriage of the Southrons. 
The dress too was changed, and instead of the latticed 
bodice, short frock, and peaked hat of the Alpine beauty, 
there appeared flowing skirts, long scarfs, and tiaras of 
glossy hair, covered with tasty veils falling in carnival fash- 
ion down the back. 

As we left the town and progressed upon our road, the 
contrast continued to increase in the way of the country 
itself. The landscape had a softer aspect, the clipped grape- 
vines of the northern region rose to the luxuriance of bowers, 
and still further on they were trained on upright poles, in 
the shape of trees. Indian corn after a few hours' drive 
began sparsely to appear, and towards the close of the day 
rejoiced in a multitude of fields. The villages through which 
we passed were exceedingly picturesque, and the groups 
which gathered in the thoroughfares to see us pass, looked 
like the pictures of Cervantes and Gil Bias. Belinzona, the 
capital of the canton, through which we passed in the fore- 
noon, lay in a sunny languor, its people hiving lazily about 
their doors and windows, as though they were making up a 
scene for the underplot of a romance, while some miles fur- 
ther on, from the apex of a toilsome hill, we looked down 
upon a sweep of meadows, with Lake Maggiore obtruding 
from the mountains like a sheet of silver invading a portion 
of the plain. We saw but a corner of the lake at this point, 
(the corner which receives the Ticino,) and then wound off 
eastward towards Lugano. 

We arrived at Lugano about noon, and as we thundered 
down a steep hill into the town, a scene of most surpassing 
sweetness broke upon us. There lay the town perched at 



352 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the head of the lake, and built partly up the hill with pi( 
turesque effect. There lay the lake in silent beauty, str 
and clear as glass ; while based in the crystal, as thoug 
planted on a mirror, majestic mountains stood around it 
borders, exhibiting between their great openings where th I 
lake spread on, a scene of drowsy quiet, mixed with granj 
deur, that seemed to have been invented for the repose ol 
Nature. To finish the picture, little gondolas, or pleasure 
boats, with gay parti-colored awnings, were pushing lazih 
about on various portions of the lake, or emerging from sonn, 
of the mountain nooks where their parties had been pic< 
nicking or looking after fish. 

We took dinner at Lugano, and reluctantly resumed tht 
diligence to move forward from the fairy scene, skirting the 
edge of the lake, and crossing it by a fine bridge, to take it£ 
left hand border down. As we rode along, evidences of the 
Catholicity of the country appeared very frequently in the 
shape of chapels by the roadside, of churches with the em- 
blem of the cross upon their spires, and rude pictures of the 
saints painted in front of the dwellings and even upon stable 
doors. The country is thickly populated along the border 
of the lake. We scarcely left one village a few minutes 
before we would plunge into another, and throughout all, 
we heard for an hour a continuous chime, summoning the 
devout to worship. The day was very hot, yet I endured 
an outside perch with great fortitude, and found my pay in a 
scries of impressions, which will probably never be eradi- 
cated from my mind. All day we had been descending ; 
and towards the close of the afternoon we left the hills be- 
hind us, and entered upon the vast plain that stretches 
between Como and Milan. And how grateful seemed that 
plain. From the commencement of the Rhine, to this final 
farewell of the Alps, my mind had been strained with gran- 



como. 353. 

deur to an aching point, and I welcomed this new phase of 
nature with a strong feeling of repose, and for a time felt as 
if I never wished to see a hill again. 

We arrived at Como at six o'clock, but did not enjoy an 
examination of its features, beyond what could be gathered 
in a ride through the town. We could see, however, that it 
was a fine place, and deserving of its early ambition of being 
a rival of Milan. It is situated at the southwest extremity 
of the lake of Como, and its neighborhood is celebrated as 
the location of some of the most superb villas of all Italy. 
It is here that the unfortunate Queen Caroline, of England, 
took up her residence for a time, and purchased a place, 
which she called the Villa d'Este. 

The city was all alive when we entered it, and the hours 
of church service being over, we saw its people to their best 
advantage. It had been a saint's day, and in addition to the 
larger portion of the population being abroad to enjoy it, 
great numbers had come up from Milan to share the fete. 
Here we saw soldiers (Austrians), a sight we had not seen 
since we had entered peaceful republican Switzerland, and 
here again we felt, as soon as we saw them, that the system 
of passport annoyance was to re-commence. The streets of 
Como were very gay with ladies, as we rode through ; and 
the ladies of Como were very gay in themselves. A bevy 
of young beauties perched on a hill shouted to us and waved 
their handkerchiefs as we passed by, and most of the lady 
promenaders, stately as peacocks though they were, would 
turn their lustrous orbs towards us with glances by no means 
devoid of welcome. We noticed that they were remarka 
ble for the beauty of their hair, the which, though the sun 
pours down here in no temperate beams, they seldom cover 
even with a veil ; nay, they seldom ever take pains to 
shade their cheeks. Most of them carried fans in their 



354 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

hands, but they used them rather for the purposes of 
coquetry than for covering, and scarcely ever raised them 
before the sun, except to shade their eyes when they were 
forced to look in direct opposition to his rays. The gen- 
tlemen also were carefully dressed, and among them I no- 
ticed some of the finest specimens of manly beauty I had 
ever seen. 

We took rail-road at" Como for Milan, a distance of 
twenty-three miles, and shortly after entering the cars were 
relieved of our passports, in exchange for tickets, which en- 
titled us to recover them on entering the capital. Through- 
out the whole distance of the track we ran through a contin- 
uous plain, cultivated to its utmost capacity, and containing 
among its other productions a large amount of Indian corn. 
It did not, however, exhibit that vigorous appearance it does 
with us ; but this probably is owing not so much to the 
defect of the climate as to the deficient husbandry of the 
cultivation, for it seemed to my eye that the grain had been 
sowed broadcast, instead of being planted and hilled as in 
the United States. The rail-road between Como and Milan 
is very well built, but its regulations are poor. A great 
deal of time is lost at the stations in taking in passengers, 
and though the train ran very swift when it was in motion, 
we were more than two hours in accomplishing the twenty- 
three miles. We arrived at the great gate of Milan, the 
same which received Napoleon as a conqueror, at half-past 
eight o'clock, and after a tedious detention for an examina- 
tion of our luggage, were allowed to pass. We then made 
the best of our way to the Hotel de la Ville, where my 
friends retired at once to bed, leaving me to follow their 
wise example as soon as I had made amends for a poor 
dinner by an attack upon a cold fowl, flanked by a small 
bottle of Burgundy wine. In the morning I took breakfast 



MILAN. 355 

with the family, despatched a letter home for publication, 
and then engaged a valet de place for an examination of 
the city. 

The chief object of interest in Milan is the great cathedral, 
a superb Gothic structure, built entirely of white marble, 
and inferior in size to only two other churches in Europe — 
the church of St. Paul's, in London, and St. Peter's, at 
Rome. In outward beauty, to my eye, it exceeds them 
both, though the palm must be yielded to the latter, in all 
the claims of grandeur which result from harmony and size. 
The cathedral of Milan is a miracle of chiseling, as well in 
the way of statues, as in tracery and fret work. From all 
parts of its exterior rises a perfect forest of delicate marble 
spires, overlaid with lace-like carving, and from every point, 
and in every niche and angle stands a sculptured saint, each 
of the size of life, and the majority of them of the most 
exquisite proportions. Four thousand and four hundred 
elaborate figures of this description preside over the archi- 
tectural grandeur of the edifice, and even yet the number is 
said to be not quite made up. The interior is supported by 
clustered columns, eight feet in diameter, and ninety feet in 
height, and below the floor, in a grand chapel underground, 
lies the evangelical patron of the place, the holy San Carlo. 
He is enclosed in a glass coffin, through which his mummy 
may be seen, dressed in his archiepiscopal mitre and robes ; 
his fleshless fingers glittering with costly gems. The best 
view of the exterior of the cathedral, is from the large square 
at the left side of the front. The church of next importance 
in Milan, is that of St. Ambrose. It dates from the ninth 
century, and is famous not only for its ecclesiastical councils, 
but is renowned also as the place in which the German 
Emperors usually received the crown of Lombardy. Among 
its relics it contains a huge brazen serpent, which is declared 



356 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

to be the identical one made and used by Moses in the 
wilderness. In the church of Santa Maria della Grazia, an 
altar of Carrara marble is shown, which, for elaborate work- 
manship, is well worth seeing, while in a side chapel is a 
host of relics sufficient to revive the dormant faith of the 
most inveterate skeptic in the world. 

Hard by the latter church, is an old Dominican convent, 
in the great hall of which is painted on the wall, the famous 
" Last Supper," by Leonard Da Vinci, who was a native of- 
Milan. It is nearly faded out, however, by damp and age, 
and it has also suffered much from the abuse which it 
received when the building was occupied as a barrack by 
the French. At present the hall is in a most wretched con- 
dition, being quite bare, and from the proximity of a stable, 
having the smell of the menagerie. Under this state of 
things all traces of the great picture must soon fade out, and 
nothing remain to tell its beauty, but the engravings which 
now flood the world. 

There are five galleries of paintings in Milan, and one of 
the best is, that attached to the Ambrosian Library, an 
institution founded by San Carlo, and now containing ninety- 
five thousand printed volumes. Attached to another public 
library, is a gallery containing Guido's crucifixion, and a 
glass case enclosing a manuscript letter of Lucretia Borgia, 
and a lock of her golden hair. I was profoundly impressed 
with the appearance of these relics. The enormous wicked- 
ness of the beautiful demon to whom the tress belonged, 
had lodged her in my imagination as a fabulous creation, 
but the inspection of these relics, placed her before my eyes, 
and gave reality to her character. What beautiful hair, said 
I, involuntarily, as I stood musing over the case. 

" Ah, yes sir," said my guide, " the hair is very fair, but 
the heart was very black." 



MILAN. 357 

Milan is the capital of Austrian Italy, and has a popula- 
tion of nearly two hundred thousand souls. It is situated 
in the centre of an immense plain, and it derives its com- 
mercial importance, doubtless, from its being the focus of 
the various roads that pierce the Alps, which unite here, as 
if they were so many rivers, flowing with their trade to a 
common port. Its manufactures, however, are the most 
important branch of its prosperity, and of these the manu- 
facture of silk preponderates over all others. Velvets, lace, 
artificial flowers, carpets, &c, are also largely produced, and 
its trade in rice and Parmesan cheese is very extensive. It 
has also a royal tobacco manufactory, but owing to the 
settled hostility of the people to the Government, this does 
not at present do a very thriving business. It was on the 
tobacco question that the people broke with the Govern- 
ment in 1848, and through their contumacy in still refusing 
to smoke dutiable segars, they are held under martial law. 
No one can be seen smoking in the streets except the Aus- 
trian soldiers, or perhaps some government official or para- 
site, who takes the broad daylight to inculcate a lesson of 
loyalty to his neighbors. But it would not be altogether 
safe for him to go forth thus at night, for his segar would 
run a chance of extinguishment by a fist, or by a keen stroke 
between the ribs that might perhaps put out the smoker as 
well as the segar. The result is that smoking in Milan is 
confined mainly to the soldiery, and to retainers of the 
Government ; or it is enjoyed by the loyal only inside of 
cafes or closed doors. I had forgotten this state of things at 
the time of my arrival, and was about issuing from my hotel 
with a fine regalia in my mouth, when I was reminded by 
my guide of the nature of affairs. 

" However, sir, you need not throw away your 
segar unless you like," added he, "for you will be 



358 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

known as a stranger, and the people will not take offense 
at you" 

" But I will throw it away," I replied, promptly suiting 
the action to the word ; " for I will not do anything that 
gives dissatisfaction to the people." 

The good fellow seemed much pleased with my conduct ; 
from that moment his confidence was unlocked, and he talk- 
ed of nothing but Garibaldi, and hopes of revolution for the 
rest of the day. I found this feeling universal among the 
populace, and also found the hatred to the government 
intense. 

"What is your local government here?" said I, to my 
intelligent hotel-keeper. 

" We have none," was his answer. 

" Have you no town council V 1 

" No." 

" No Mayor ?" 

"No." 

" Who rules here then ?" 

" The man who rules over all Lombardy — Radetzky !" 

" How long has this martial law been in force V 

"Since 1848." 

" How long do you expect it to continue V* 

The prudent landlord shrugged his shoulders, and I took 
the hint and answered for him — " Until the spring of 
1852." 

A strong evidence of the state of the public feeling was 
given a few days previous to my arrival, in the assassina- 
tion of a man who had been guilty of information to the 
government, as to the liberal sentiments of certain of his 
neighbors. He was stabbed in the open streets while 
people were going to and fro in all directions, yet such was 
the common detestation of his conduct, that not a witness 



THE TRAGEDY OF LOVE. 359 

could be found who saw the act, and the spy was turned 
into his grave unmourned and unredressed. 

The people of Milan look worthy of their spirit. They 
are by far the best dressed and noblest-featured population 
I have seen anywhere in Europe. They bear themselves as 
if they deserved liberty, and only want good leaders to do 
great deeds. The women are by no means behind the men 
in pride and resolution, as they proved by many glorious 
acts of devotion during the commotions of 1848. One 
recent instance of self sacrifice and elevated courage, though 
exhibited in love instead of patriotism, will serve to show 
the deeds of which they are capable. 

A Milanese girl was the mistress of a Frenchman, and 
they had lived together, and loved each other tenderly for 
several years. As time ran on, his passion weakened in 
its ardor, and avarice got the ascendency in his heart. An 
eligible match was offered him with a young heiress, which, 
after some reflection, he decided to embrace. He endeavor- 
ed to keep it secret, but by the instinct which love alone 
possesses, the companion of his bosom found it out. Hav- 
ing nothing in me that is magniloquent or tender, I will not 
attempt to describe her ravings or her tears. It is enough 
that she broke his purpose, and he yielded to a temporary 
remorse. By-and-by, however, when his mistress was 
appeased, he resumed his overtures to the heiress, and at 
length got so far as to plight his troth and fix the bridal 
day. In the meantime, the Milanese discovered his dupli- 
city, and feeling that hope had closed to her forever, she 
took the last resource of an abused affection, and wrapping 
her mantle about her, left his house. There were no tears, 
no violence on this occasion, but she paused on the threshold 
and warned him as she went, that if he performed the last 
outrage on her love, by the consummation of his nuptials, 



360 EUROPE IN A HFRRY. 

the occasion should be signalized by blood. The French- 
man trembled when he heard these words, but it was not 
from an emotion of remorse. That passion holds but a 
narrow lease in an artificial heart, and the sentiment he felt 
was fear. He postponed the marriage, and when the second 
day came round, he postponed it again. At length, disgust- 
ed with his weakness, and apprehensive lest he should lose 
his prize, the bridal day was fixed for good. The guests 
assembled ; the table of the merchant father groaned with 
plate ; the room was festooned with flowers, and at the head 
of the regal board was grouped the bride and her maidens, 
the bridegroom and his friends. It was noticed, however, 
that the bridegroom did not seem to be happy. He was 
nervous, agitated and abstracted. Now and then he would 
start, look suddenly around, as if he expected some unwel- 
come sight, and then by a desperate effort rally himself 
into a hollow burst of gaiety. As he stood at the head of 
the feast, he dropped for a moment into one of these gloomy 
fits, but instantly recovering himself, he raised his goblet | 
with a cheerful air to propose a toast. All paused to listen ; 
but on that silence came the sound of a bustle in the hall, 
which turned his cheek to paper. Of a sudden, the doors 
of the saloon were thrown open, and there appeared con- 
fronting him, a figure dressed in the snowy garments of a 
bride, but otherwise, except in the orbs that blazed beneath 
her brows, more like a spectre than a bride. For a moment 
or two she made no movement, but fixed like a statue, 
seemed to enjoy the consternation of the company. During 
this awful pause, the goblet of her faithless lover fell from 
his trembling hand, and its sound upon the marble floor 
seemed to remind her of her purpose. She raised aloft a 
dagger. " I warned you," she exclaimed, " that if you 
attempted to consummate these nuptials they should be 



THE TRAGEDY OF LOVE. 361 

signalized with blood — and I have come to keep my word," 
and as she ended, she plunged the dagger deep into her own 
neck and fell upon the floor. The guests rushed towards 
her; some raised her in their arms; but life had already 
taken farewell of its faint hold, and the proud, broken- 
hearted girl was dead. 



10 



Teatro la Scala — Life in a Diligence — Pavia — Genoa. 

Among the most attractive public features of Milan, to a 
stranger, is the famous Opera House of Teatro la Scala. It 
is the largest theatre in Italy, with the exception, perhaps, 
of the San Carlo at Naples, and would, if the boxes were ar- 
ranged as in the principal theatres of the United States, 
contain at least six thousand people. The pit, most of 
which is divided into stalls, will hold eight hundred ; and 
there are six tiers of boxes, rising one above another, all di- 
vided into little rooms or coops the entire distance round. 
The season had closed at the time of my visit, but on pay- 
ment of a fee I was enabled to enter the house. From what 
I could see of it, even at this disadvantage, I was obliged to 
accord to it the palm of magnificence in arrangement and 
decoration, over London and Paris, and obliged to regret, 
too, that I had arrived a few days too late to see it in its 
pride. The appearance of the establishment when filled 
with company, is represented to be very novel. There are 
no lamps except those which are used to light up the stage, 
and the whole body of the house remains in a sort of dusk, 
which prevents objects being seen with any distinctness, 
from side to side. The boxes, which are little rooms, are 



MILAN. 



363 



occupied by parties of six or eight, who devote themselves 
to conversation, card-playing, or refreshments at little ta- 
bles where they have lights of their own, while others re- 
main in the dark, either listening to the music, or looking 
at the performance of the surrounding scene, without any 
retaliating observation on themselves. Ordinarily, but 
little attention is devoted to the play, the chief use of the 
house being that of a rendezvous or conversazione. There 
are several other theatrical establishments in Milan, but it 
being midsummer, only three of them were open. 

The hotels in Milan are very good, and the one in which 
I staid was equal to the best I saw in Europe. It was fit- 
ted up with all the appointments of a palace, and its table 
kept up the promise of its general style. The landlord, 
moreover, is a very intelligent and gentlemanly man, and 
treats Americans with the most especial respect and consi- 
deration. He remarked to me, that the English, who used 
to do most of the European travel, had within the last two 
years disappeared to a great extent, and that the Americans 
were taking their places. "This year," said he, " there are 
more Americans than English, and I really do not know 
how to account for it." 

' " Next year," said I, " the disproportion will be still 
greater, and the reason is, we are getting all the money. 
The Americans will hereafter do the best part of the Euro- 
pean travel, and you must prepare to study their tastes. 
In short, you must provide yourself with tomatoes, and the 
New York JVatio?ial Police Gazette.'''' 

There were at this time, fourteen Americans at this sin- 
gle establishment, though situated in the very midst of 
Northern Italy ; so at the dinner table we made quite a for- 
midable array, and also caused among the waiters quite a 
stir. While thin beverages were called for at other por- 



364 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

tions of the board, rich wines prevailed with us, and the 
criterion of selection among our people was generally the 
high figures in the tables of the price. The household was 
in a buzz of admiration, and as I went out, I heard one en- 
thusiastic garfo?i, who seemed bursting with amazement at 
the exploits in champagne which a knot of five, who still 
remained at table, had already performed, exclaim to a 
sympathetic listener behind the door, " En verite, les Ameri- 
cains sont des enfants prodigues ! '" Truly, these Americans 
are prodigal children. There was much truth in this, ac- 
cording to the rules of comparison, and the serving people 
about European hotels know how to appreciate it. 

I staid in Milan one day longer than my Georgia friends, 
and then prepared to follow them to Genoa, where they 
had agreed to wait for me, preparatory to a decision whe- 
ther they would turn back from that point to Turin, or em- 
bark upon the Mediterranean for Leghorn, Civita Vecchia, 
and Rome. Like them, I was obliged to take the diligence 
at noon for an eighteen hours' ride, and then push through 
without prospect of relief, except in occasional stoppages of 
five minutes to change horses, and occasional naps over the 
smooth portions of the road. As a preliminary to the 
journey, and before I was allowed to pay for a place, I was 
obliged to deposit my passport with the conductor, who 
gave me in exchange a ticket or receipt, to entitle me to re^ 
gain it from the police of Genoa, to whom, as well as to the 
police on the borders of Sardinia, he was accountable for 
his human freight. Thus chartered I set out, being stowed 
with eight persons, all Italians but myself, in a close coop 
on wheels, and shut in from all air and view by curtains 
closely drawn to exclude the broiling sun on one side, and 
as tightly drawn to keep out the clouds of dust from the 
complexions and dresses of the ladies on the other. I con- 



LIFE IN A DILIGENCE. 365 

sequently saw nothing of the country, and was debarred by 
the limbs of a very stout lady, who sat opposite and dove- 
tailed me in my place, from making an escape until we ar- 
rived at Pavia, on the borders of Sardinia, at four o'clock in 
the afternoon. 

Here we traveled out to undergo an inspection of our 
baggage, by the Sardinian officers of the douane, or customs, 
and to get what refreshment we could, at a miserable caba- 
ret in connection with the bureau. The same performance 
occurred here in the inspection of our trunks which I have 
described at Strasbourg, but I escaped all disturbance of my 
clothes, by passing into the hands of the searching officer, 
according to the direction of Murray's Guide Book, three or 
four small silver coins as a tribute of my respect for his po- 
liteness, in advance. It is a good course to follow at all Ita- 
lian bureaus, and I also recommend it to travelers who wish 
to be spared the inconvenience of a rude investigation. 

From Pavia I was boxed up again, being relieved between 
four o'clock and dusk only by a general pic-nic, which was 
performed by the whole company, each of whom had, with 
commendable foresight, provided himself or herself with a 
wallet of provisions and a flask of wine. I was prepared 
like the rest, and at the signal of one of the ladies, we all 
went to work ; and as the feast proceeded did ourselves 
credit, by sharing our varieties with the edible assortments 
of our near neighbors. I fraternized readily with the stout 
lady opposite, and made an eligible exchange with some 
daintily cut slices of Westphalia ham, for the half of a small 
chicken which she drew out of her capacious pocket. She 
likewise rewarded the excellence of my Bordeaux, by a 
slight pull which she invited me to take from her flask of 
eau de vie. When night set in, conversation subsided into, 
a gradual chorus of snores, among which, justice obliges me 



366 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

to say, the notes of my stout vis a vis were entitled to infi- 
nite pre-eminence. There were times throughout the night 
when I would have been glad to escape for a few moments 
at the stopping places, but the stout lady had in her sleep 
slipped rather forward, and I was hopelessly wedged in. 
We were a sweet looking party at daybreak, and the glances 
which we exchanged when we awoke, and tried to appear at 
ease, would have been worthy of the genius of any of the 
painters of the National Academy. 

At half-past seven o'clock I arrived at Genoa, with a 
grateful heart, and purblind with fatigue, followed a wheel- 
barrow, containing my luggage, to the nearest hotel. There 
I threw myself down, and took a two hours' sleep, in 
recompense for the refreshment I had lost, after which a 
bath made me presentable to my friends, and tolerable to 
myself. 

Before descending to the breakfast room, I threw open 
my front windows, and stood out upon the balcony, in the 
fresh morning air. The day and the scene were very fine. 
Before me, in a grand expanse, spread the blue waters of 
the Mediterranean flickering softly in the sun. The city lay 
upon the scollop of the shore, in the shape of a semi-circle, 
about a mile in length, while the buildings rose, one above 
the other, to peep into the harbor, in the style of spectators 
at an amphitheatre, backed by the Appenines in the far 
distance, and by a closer range of hills just behind the 
limits of the city. Immediately below me lay the placid 
harbor, protected from the ocean swell by two enormous 
moles or piers, which project towards each other from either 
extremity of the city, filled with shipping of all nations, 
which dozed securely by their hawsers, perfectly indifferent 
to whatever wind might blow without. Beyond the harbor, 
and at various distances upon the main, might be seen the 



GENOA. 867 

steady ship, the dancing smack, the little fishing-boat, and 
the black trail of some laboring steamer on its track between 
Naples and Marseilles. All this was a peculiarly pleasing 
sight to me. Having been born in New York, and my earli- 
est notions being associated with harbor scenes and the sea, 
I enjoyed the picture with peculiar relish, and appreciated 
it the more because I had not seen a ship since I had left 
Antwerp on the Scheldt. 

Genoa has a great name in commerce, and she likewise 
owns the credit of having given birth to that greatest of 
all navigators, Christopher Columbus, whose genius and 
whose perseverance redeemed a hemisphere from the abyss. 
She likewise owns the credit of having once worn the dia- 
dem of commerce, through her command of the Indian trade, 
and of having been, like all commercial nations, famous for 
her love of liberty. As early as the eleventh century she 
was the capital of a Republic, and she continued to remain 
such, until its domain was arbitrarily assigned to the king- 
dom of Sardinia, by the Congress of Vienna, after the battle 
of Waterloo. The people, however, wear their yoke un- 
easily. They yearn after their ancient glory and old inde- 
pendence, and murmur at the taxes that are imposed for 
the support of an uncongenial system. They are very free 
in speech, and democratic expressions are just as frequent in 
their newspapers and their cafes, as in London or in New 
York. Indeed, it would be almost impossible to restrain 
them in this privilege. Like the citizens of Liege, they 
have always been famous in the chronicles of history as a 
turbulent people, and as being continually agitated by ques- 
tions of popular privilege, that seem to spring, as it were, 
out of the ground. 

The commerce of Genoa has, of course, very much de- 
clined within the last three centuries, but this is owing 



368 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

rather to changes over which she had no control, than to 
her own negligence, or to the declining enterprise of her 
people. The discovery of the Cape of Good Hope trans- 
ferred the trade of the Indies to Portugal, and the conquest 
of Constantinople by the Turks, shut up the direct route 
which Genoa commanded to the East by the way of the 
Mediterranean. Out of these changes grew up dissensions 
with Venice, which was her rival for the India trade, and in 
addition to her loss of business, she became debilitated by 
bitterly contested wars with the mistress of the Adriatic. 
She still, however, ranks as the second commercial city of 
the Mediterranean, and now that her commerce is again 
increasing, renews her hope that she will soon be pre-emi- 
nent above Marseilles. Her situation is very eligible, and 
lying in the curve of the continent nearest to the fertile 
plains of Parma, Sardinia, Piedmont, and Lombardy, and 
also the avenues of Switzerland beyond, she becomes the 
entrepot and commercial agent of them all. These advan- 
tages are shortly to be increased by a rail-road which is soon 
to be finished to Turin ; and by a further one that has been 
spoken of to Milan. 

The aspect of Genoa, as I find it now, is most lively and 
picturesque, though the first expression must not be under- 
stood as applying to the dwellings in the lower portion of 
the town. There, most of them are very tall and very 
ancient, and in the greater number of the streets they lean 
towards each other like aged giants, who are becoming loose 
in the knees. The greater number of the streets in the 
lower quarter are mere lanes, scarcely any of them admit- 
ting the passage of a vehicle ; indeed, many can be touched 
on both sides by the outspread hands, and the passage of a 
donkey with well filled paniers drives you to the necessity 
of standing in a doorway till he gets by. In some cases, the 



GENOA. 369 

projecting eaves of the houses almost meet above, and the 
residents who wish to give a sociable afternoon party, need 
only summon their neighbors to an opposite window, in 
order to hob and nob over a cup of tea, as familiarly as if 
they were at the same table. While on this subject, it is 
hardly necessary that I should suggest the facilities which 
such a state of things must afford to younger persons, in the 
way of making love, or in taking advantage of such as is 
already made. This narrowness keeps the streets shady and 
cool, though it does not help to keep them clean. A good 
system of sewerage, however, prevents them from becoming 
offensive ; but many a time I was obliged to wish the sew 
erage would keep them free from fleas. Owing to their inac- 
cessibility to vehicles, the most frequent objects you meet in 
them are mules and donkeys, laden with every imaginable 
article, from fagots and dry goods, to panniers laden down 
with bricks and ironware. These grave wayfarers seem to be 
on a very good footing with themselves. Filled with their 
own importance, or indifference as to your presence, they go 
straight along, never stepping an inch out of their chosen path, 
and unless you very promptly move aside, they will walk 
against you, and, without saying " by your leave," thrust 
you to thje wall. Upon looking at their burdens, however, 
you do not grumble at their unconcern, but willingly give the 
road up to so much patience and fidelity. In order to enable 
them to keep their feet up the steep and glossy pavement of 
these streets, they are shod with a circular iron shoe, which 
projects an inch beyond the foot all round, and gives them 
the appearance of having their feet set in the centre of iron 
quoits. 

The streets of Genoa, in the business hours, are filled with 
people, and everybody is at work, or passing to and fro on 
business. The main street, which runs along the quay, 



16- 



370 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

where the principal shipping business is performed, is a per- 
fect hive of labor, and is filled, from the earliest hours, with 
a swarm of laborers, who answer to the long shoremen of 
cur country, but who here look like so many Massaniellos, 
ready to be organized into a grand torch chorus at the sound 
of a gong. They are, however, much superior in appearance 
to the loafers of an opera troupe. They are hearty, lusty 
fellows, brawny in frame, with fine muscular development, 
and they work with a good will and an incessancy that I 
never saw equaled in the United States, even on a special 
job. They take the most incredible burdens on their 
shoulders, and move under them always with a trot, and 
having deposited them, return without pause, and at the same 
. for another. All over the quay there is a continual 
limn of voices and outcries, mixed with the braying of don- 
keys, and the lumbering roll of heavy drays, which, with 
their lung lines of horses, are setting out to, or returning 
from, the great roads to Milan, Turin, or the Alps. Some 
of the features of this scene are quite novel, and strike the 
attention of a stranger very singularly. The conduct and 
aspect of the donkeys often provoke his mirth, and he can 
scarcely restrain his laughter at the queer contrast they pre- 
sent, when harnessed in tandem, as they often are, with 
horses of the largest size. The first instance I saw of this 
queer intermixture, was the appearance of a magnificent 
stallion, harnessed in a line of donkeys, two of which went 
before, and two after him, in dragging a load of merchandize. 
I could not help wondering, as I saw his proud neck and 
stately step, whether he was not ruminating on the degra- 
dation of his associations. But appearances or congruity 
seem to be very little consulted in Genoa. 

In contradistinction to all this enterprise and activity, the 
whole line of arcades on which stands the water front of the 



GENOA. 371 

city, is in a state of lamentable dilapidation ; the arches are 
crumbling, piles of rubbish lie at their base, and the general 
aspect of the water front is that of a town which has just 
sustained a severe bombardment. The more modern por- 
tion of the city, however, which stretches along the north 
side of the port, redeems this sloven picture by handsome 
buildings, and regular and spacious streets. Upon these, 
and in the higher and more salubrious portions of the town, 
are situated many palaces, the magnificence of which almost 
discourages description. Indeed, from their number, and the 
grandeur of their decorations, in fountains, galleries, gold, 
and gardens, Genoa has enjoyed through centuries, among 
her Italian sisterhood, the title of " The Superb." I visited 
the most famous edifices, and will content myself with con- 
tributing my acquiescence in the justice of the compliment. 
The churches, as a general thing, do not come up to the 
glory of the palaces, but one of them, the name of which I 
think is the Annunziata, exceeds, in gilding, any interior 
decorations I have seen between this place and Versailles. 
Such a wealth of ornament is lavished upon its ceiling that 
the sight is wounded, and it seems as if, should a conflagra- 
tion of the building ever take place, that molten streams 
would pour from the opulent ruins into the street. 

In banking, too, as well as in palaces and commerce, 
Genoa deserves a high distinction. The Bank of St. George, 
the oldest bank of circulation in Europe, was established 
here as early as the fourteenth century, and Genoa still re- 
mains the money mart of Southern Europe. I advise tra- 
velers to draw upon their bankers here, rather than in Leg- 
horn or Rome, as they will receive much more favorable 
terms than at either of the latter places. 

J rose at daybreak the second morning of my stay, for the 
purpose of looking through the markets. Notwithstanding 



672 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

it was so early, I stumbled over a donkey laden with onions 
as I stepped out of my hotel door, and brought up in front 
of a beggar and a priest, one of whom inquired very earn- 
estly if I was hurt, and the other begged me for God's sake 
to forget my troubles, and give him alms. I was not in a 
very good humor, for that class of the residents of Genoa 
denominated fleas had wofully disturbed my temper, and I 
fancied that the muleteer whose donkey I had upset, was 
cursing me in anything but choice Italian. Nevertheless, as 
I noticed that the worthy padre was engaged in repressing 
a flea-bite under his arm, and that the mendicant was scratch- 
ing promiscuously all over, I was softened by the consola- 
tion of companionship in misery, and politely thanked the 
first, and gave a franc to the second. I had been told to 
expect fleas as soon as I got south of Milan, but I had no 
idea that the region of vermin commenced so virulently at 
such an early latitude. Upon reflection, I do not wonder 
that the people of Genoa are industrious, for they dare not 
be idle. Half the time of a person who is not at active 
work, is engaged in scratching his body, and to such perfec- 
tion is this motion brought, that ladies will perform it in 
your presence almost without exciting your suspicion of 
their object. In fact, they make it contribute to style, and 
some of their most casual and graceful motions are under- 
taken for the mere purpose of dislodging a flea. As I be- 
came interested on this subject, I studied the matter rather 
closely, and I found that it was seldom the object of the 
scratcher to eject the intruders, but merely to break their 
hold, and oblige them to adopt the relief of a fresh place. 
The beggar who assailed me, however, was a rough per- 
former. The fellow had no art, and went at in a downright 
way, as a matter of relief. I am inclined to think that for 
this reason he would command but little respect or charity 



GENOA. 373 

among his countrymen. He was a cripple, and had but two 
short stumps for legs, while he was further fortunate in the 
loss of his left eye. Throughout the previous day I had 
seen many with one arm, others with one leg, several with 
club feet, paralyzed limbs, and broken backs, while those 
who were deaf, dumb, and blind, were beyond my count. 
At length, as I proceeded, I became more and more aston- 
ished at the number of cripples of one sort and another, and 
I was forced to the conclusion that it is the custom among 
a class of beggars to clip themselves of certain members, in 
order to make capital for setting up the business of a men- 
dicant. The loss of one leg is a very good business start, 
but the fortitude which can yield up two, will probably be 
rewarded with a handsome revenue of alms through life. 

As I walked along the water street, which I described so 
bustling in the day before, I looked into the little cabarets 
or restaurants that were built in cellars under the arcades, 
and there I saw Pietro and Gomez, Carlos and Beppo, Gia- 
corao and Sanchez, et id genus omne, strengthening them- 
selves for their day's task by tucking in their breakfasts. 
In some cases, half a dozen of them eating out of the same 
dish. There seemed no rivalry in the matter, for there ap- 
peared in all cases to be an abundance of food, and each 
helped himself without haste, and saw his companions follow 
him without apprehension of injustice. The favorite article 
seemed to be a fry of small fish, about the size of a sardine, 
but pulpy, like a snail. I afterwards found them in great 
plenty in the markets. 

The markets were chiefly distinguished for their abun- 
dance and variety of fruits; they are also famous for the 
size and excellence of their veal. Calves are grown here 
to an enormous size, and in this line, the stock-raisers of 
Sardinia rival the English in their production of mutton. 



374 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

Veal is nowhere so fine as in Genoa. Figs, cherries and 
plums, hold the same pre-eminence, while in the way of 
vegetables, potatoes make a respectable appearance. Toma- 
toes are cheap and plenty, and mushrooms appear in the 
most extravagant profusion. In fact, this latter article 
seems to be a great staple with the hucksters of Genoa. On 
all sides they are heaped up in baskets^ and they appear 
from the button size to a bulky fungi nearly as large as a 
Russia turnip. They are, however, very different from the 
mushroom of England and America. They have something 
of the same flavor, but they are more woody and solid, and 
consequently are less rich and less delicate. They are sold 
in all styles, either fresh from the earth, or cut into dried 
shavings, or done up in cases for exportation. Those selected 
for the latter use. are of the small button size, and large 
quantities of them find their way to the United States. 
They are eat here in various ways, but the most favorite 
method is to fry them in oil, in which style they do not taste 
unlike a fried oyster. Cheese and maccaroni are likewise 
prominent articles among the market people ; and I observed 
at shops, throughout the streets that were devoted to market 
purposes, large quantities of Indian meal. I finished my 
survey of the market by breakfast time. After that I visited 
the street principally occupied by the goldsmiths; the quar- 
ter devoted to the braziers and workers in brass and iron ; 
the factories of silk and velvet; and closed the day with the 
impression that Genoa was a great city, and its people a 
worthy and industrious people, who deserve a better fate 
than to descend from their grand history to be the subjects 
of a king. 



July, 1851. 

From Genoa to Leghorn — Pisa and the Leaning Tower — 
Beautiful Bathers. 

The sight of the beautiful waters of the Mediterranean, 
the freshness of the delicious breezes which wafted from its 
surface in our faces, and the captivating downward line of 
coast that stretched towards the Eternal City, fixed the 
minds of my friends, and on the morning of the second day 
it was decided they would continue on to Rome. Our cou- 
rier, therefore, was despatched with orders to secure us 
places, and on the afternoon of the third day after our arri- 
val we found ourselves sailing out of the harbor of " Genoa 
the Superb," in a little steamer called the " Castore," one 
of a line of French mail packets that run between Naples 
and Marseilles. 

It was seven o'clock when we started, therefore we had 
not more than enough of daylight to admire the aspect -of 
the retreating city, and to make preparations to secure eligi- 
ble resting, or " roosting" places for the night. A dinner was 
set out for us in the cabin, but there were few partakers ; 
the motion of the vessel making many of the passengers 
sicjc, while most of the rest had their dinner before their 
start. I was one of the few who appeared at the steward's 
muster, but out of the entire party of my friends there was 



37t> EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

only one — and that one a lady — who was not in the hands 
of the waiters, who in these boats perform, the offices of 
maids — I beg pardon, I mean to say, maid-servants. This 
general sickness was hardly expected from the appearance 
of the sea, but I found it had a short chopping motion, 
which operated upon our flirting little two hundred and 
fifty tun craft, more decidedly than the Jull sweep of the 
Atlantic acts upon a steamer of proper size and regular de- 
portment. At our start there was a good deal of laughing, 
talking, promenading, and skylarking on the short after 
deck, but we had not got a mile from the mole before the 
color began to nutter on the ladies' cheeks, sudden disap- 
pearances prevailed, and presently an overture of sad noises, 
interspersed with violent interjections, commenced in the 
caves below, and lasted throughout the night. 

A chorus of sea music of this kind, though by no means 
agreeable even to a contented soul, would, however, prob- 
ably not have disturbed me much, had I not suffered a 
more serious annoyance in the shape of an attack of fleas. 
I have alluded to my sufferings in this way at Genoa, but 
I must acquit "La Superba" of the suspicion of having 
followed me with her peculiar institutions to this distance. 
I am positive on this subject, for after great pains and a 
most persevering search, I parted, just previous to my em- 
barkation, with a fine fellow, the last of his set, who had 
been with me the greater part of a whole day, and those 
I met on board were members of a new tribe, replenished 
mainly from Marseilles, but doubtless well strengthened 
with contributions from all the Christian ports on the line 
of route. 

At midnight the vigor of distress among the invalids had 
subsided into fitful murmurs, and it was only at long inter- 
vals that silence would be quite ripped up by the violent 



FROM GENOA TO LEGHORN. 377 

action of a disgusted stomach, or disturbed by a plaintive 
appeal on the part of some female sufferer that some person 
would step forward " and put an existence to her life." At 
four o'clock in the morning, however, the wheels of the 
Castore stopped in the harbor of Leghorn, and rejoicing in 
the respite, the pale faces hurried on deck, and smiling 
faintly as they met each other, pretended, as is customary 
with sea-sick convalescents, to regard the agonies through 
which they passed in the light of a joke. It was broad sun- 
rise at half-past four when I emerged from the cabin, and 
though we were all ready to debark, in order to spend the 
day (that is to say, till five o'clock, p.m.) on shore, we 
were detained full two hours for the passport officers to 
arrive, before we were permitted to land. At length we 
reached the shore, and abandoning the free breakfast which 
we were entitled to on board the steamer, took our way to 
the Hotel Victoire, and enjoyed a very comfortable break- 
fast there. 

The harbor of the city of Leghorn did not make much of 
an impression on me from our anchorage ; nevertheless, it is 
a very comfortable port, and the city, in its buildings and its 
streets, is worthy of its rivalry with Genoa, to be the com- 
mercial emporium of Italy. It has a fine mole, some half 
a mile in length, extending into the sea, and an inner har- 
bor where vessels are_ drawn and laid over on their sides 
for the purpose of repairs. Small vessels are also built 
here, and when I went in I saw a brigantine of some three 
hundred tons setting upon the stocks, and ready to be 
launched that very day. The shipping lies in the outer or 
main harbor — not up to the wharf as with us, but anchored 
side by side in the open water, as in Genoa, and holding 
only by their hawsers. This creates a large number of wa- 
termen, who are continually pulling about in their gaily 



378 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

awninged barges, and who watch you as keenly, and are as 
importunate for your patronage, as our steamboat hackmen 
and baggage smashers are. 

Leghorn is a free port, in the largest sense of that term. 
There are no port charges of any kind. It is to this fact, 
also to the great liberality which has always been extended 
by its government to foreigners, and likewise to the cheap- 
ness of its provisions, that it owes its fortunes and its emi- 
nence. It has a stirring, busy air all along its quay, and 
before you have advanced many steps on shore, you perceive 
you are in a town of mark. As you advance you continu- 
ally meet with signs of industry. As you leave your hotel 
door, or turn a corner, some half a dozen willing fellows 
rush towards you in competition, to hire you a carriage ; 
and returning to the quay, the gondoliers will espy you se- 
veral squares off, and meet you quite far in the city, in order 
to secure your fare, in case it is your purpose to embark. 
There are no such efforts made for employment among a 
lazy people. I was much annoyed by this at first, and also 
by the importunities of a number of itinerant boot-blacks, 
who wished to arrest me in my meditations, but I checked 
myself from a petulant disposal of them, by the reflection 
that they were worthily engaged, and deserving of my re- 
spect. Nay, I did better ; I put my feet under the care of 
one of these street artists for about three minutes, and ob- 
tained a perfect protection from further annoyance on this 
subject, in the matchless lustre which he imparted to my 
Broadway Pacalins. The next thing I did was to drift into 
a barber-shop ; from thence I floated to a cafe, and thence 
to a market, where I yielded to the temptations of an oys- 
terman, whose stock consisted of about three hundred small 
sized oysters in the shell, which lay in a tub with some four 
inches of water over them, to keep them cool and give them 



MILAN. 379 

a fresh appearance. The day was hot, I was somewhat fe- 
verish through loss of sleep, and as insignificant as they 
were in their pretensions, they looked very inviting. Be- 
sides, I had not seen an oyster since my unfortunate ac- 
quaintance with the English bivalve, on my visit, to Vaux- 
hall, and I was desirous to ascertain if the whole of Europe 
was not capable of producing in this line something better 
than a parody or a practical joke. I ordered the venerable 
fisherman who had them in charge to commence to open, 
and presently I found a crowd of boot-blacks and market 
people gathered to observe my exploits. The oysters open- 
ed xery small and attenuated, and looked rather as if they 
had floated into their shells by accident, and pined there in 
discontent, than to have enjoyed that exuberant existence 
which common notion imparts to an oyster or a clam. 
They had the appearance of the English oyster, being filmy 
and transparent, and thin enough to read a newspaper 
through them, but they were free from that odious, copper- 
ish taste, which creates such a nausea in American stomachs. 
What flavor they had, however, was oyster-like, and I kept eat- 
ing on, vacantly dreaming about Florence's and Sherwood's, 
and feeding a recollection rather than an appetite. I must 
have exhibited great singularity, for the crowd regarded the 
mechanical alacrity with which I disposed of the little articles 
with an undisguised admiration, which I began to attribute to 
a knowledge that the oysters were unwholesome — so I sud- 
denly desisted, and called for my account. I then found 
out, by the price, that they had been wondering at my ex- 
travagance, in devouring such rarities in so great plenty. 

Leaving here, I commenced sauntering about the town, 
and soon found that the business of marketing was not con- 
fined to any particular quarter. Many of the cross streets 
consisted of lines of shops, the fronts of which were piled 



380 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

with vegetables or hung with meat, and brawny fellows 
were continually going to and fro with baskets on their 
shoulders, piled up and overflowing with the good things of 
the earth. There was a plenty of such fruits as I had seen in 
Genoa ; tomatoes appeared in as great quantity at the shop 
doors as in New York, and potatoes were not only abun- 
dant, but larger and finer than I had ever seen anywhere 
else. Melons, too, were thrifty, and the large watermelon 
frequently appeared on street stands, sliced in inviting quar- 
ters, to tempt the wayfarer to take a bite. Besides the brisk 
appearance of these shops, the streets receive animation 
from numbers of itinerant merchants, who continually ac- 
cost you with offers of every imaginable sort of wares. 
Some of them, I am sorry to say, in their ardor for trade, 
offer, in default of any other means of profit, to introduce 
you to interdicted mysteries of the town. The morals of 
Leghorn admit of this. Its population has as small a repu- 
tation for severity and self-denial as any in Italy, and the 
system of cavilieri servienti is tolerated very generally 
among all the easy classes. How easy the females of the 
under strata are, through this example, is a matter which I 
will leave to the reader's speculation. 

Leghorn is flat, but it is a clean, well built and rather 
handsome city. It has not many fine buildings, but has an 
appearance of regularity, and its streets are the best paved 
of any in Europe. They are generally wide, the carriage 
road being curved and laid with great squares of granite, 
with a surface as even as if it had been planed down. The 
curb is made of massive blocks which rise about six inches 
above the level of the highway and spread in broad flags to 
the house walls. Nearly all the stores in the main street 
have awnings extending to the edge of the walk, and I 
noticed that the encumbrance of posts was obviated, by 



THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA. 381 

their being depended from cords which were interchanged 
with awnings on the opposite side of the streets. In addi- 
tion to these awnings, the cafes have heavy curtains hanging 
before their entrances which admit the visitor by being parted 
in the centre, and then fall together again and shut out the 
light and heat. Some of the shops were very handsome, 
and I noticed a few of them were devoted to the sale of the 
broad straw hat which was once so fashionable in America, 
and which has made the name of Leghorn more familiar in 
England and the United States, than all her commerce and 
all her history. 

After my ramble I returned to the Hotel Victoire, and 
joined the ladies and gentlemen of my party, who on my 
return chartered two vehicles to take us to the station of the 
rail-road that runs to Pisa and Florence from this point. 
We arrived at the depot too early, and having three-quar- 
ters of an hour on our hands, we paid a visit to the English 
burying ground hard by. By this time I was thoroughly 
overcome with drowsiness and fatigue, and while the rest of 
the party went philandering among the tombs, or plucking 
berries that grew about the yard, I laid down under the 
shade of a bush by Smollet's grave, and spreading my 
handkerchief over my face, w T ent to sleep. I was suffered to 
enjoy this for about half an hour, when I w r as awoke by 
Louis Cisi, and transferred myself to the cars. Pisa is but 
thirteen miles, distance from Leghorn, so we reached there 
in less than an hour, and taking vehicles on our arrival, 
were deposited in a few minutes more in a great deserted 
square, before the celebrated Campanile or Leaning Tower, 
which has long ranked among the wonders of the world. 

I was prepared to be struck with this strange edifice, but 
when it was presented to my view, my expectations were 
exceeded, and I could scarcely realize that it was not falling 



3S2 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

to the ground. It is a circular tower, or shaft of hollow 
masonry, one hundred and ninety feet in height, with walls 
two feet thick and an interior, uninterrupted by partitions, 
twenty-two feet in diameter. It leans fifteen feet on 
one side beyond the base, and when I looked over the 
declining edge from the summit, the illusion that it was 
toppling over, was unpleasantly increased. The ascent is 
made by a circular stair-case that runs between a double 
line of walls, which let out at regular intervals upon outside 
galleries, eight in number. These mark the divisions of 
floors or stories, which once interrupted the well of the 
interior. These galleries, or balconies, being exposed to 
the weather, have accumulated in their crevices a little soil 
that supports a few minute wild flowers, which the ladies 
paused to gather as mementoes for their albums ; but when 
they arrived at the topmost story and took a peep over the 
impending edge, all disposition to loiter was frozen into 
fear, and they were glad to hurry precipitately down. They 
seemed to think their weight increased their danger, and in 
the panic of their retreat, imagined all the time of the 
descent, that the edifice was reeling to the ground. A shout 
of the guide as he ran before, made two of them shriek out, 
and when they reached the earth it was some minutes 
before they could be restored to ease. There are different 
opinions as to the cause of this architectural phenomenon. 
Some allege that it was constructed in this style as an evi- 
dence of the genius of the builder ; and others, that it owes 
its inclination to a sinking of the foundation. The latter 
opinion is most prevalent, owing to the nature of the ground, 
and owing also to the fact that two large edifices near at 
hand have the same inclination. The Leaning Tower is of 
marble; it was begun in the year 1174 and finished in the 
fourteenth century, but there are no data which attach to 



PISA. 



383 



its history that throw any light upon the mystery of its 
construction. The danger of its fall is much less than what 
it seems, for notwithstanding its great inclination, the centre 
of gravity is still ten feet within its base. 

In the same square with the Leaning Tower are three 
other remarkable buildings, consisting of a Cathedral, Bap- 
tistry, and the Campo Santo, or Cemetery. The first was 
built earlier than the Campanile, and contains some of the 
most magnificent altars and superb paintings in all Italy. 
Many of its ornaments, however, are in direct opposition 
to the genius of the place, being fitted rather for a bacchanal 
saloon or the nooks of a seraglio, than for a Christian 
church. 

These buildings and their contents are mere monuments 
of Pisa's ancient grandeur. They were in their gloss when 
she boasted of a municipal area of five miles, and a popula- 
tion of one hundred and fifty thousand souls ; but she has 
now shrunken from her walls and her population is reduced 
to twenty thousand. She sits upon the Arno, only eight 
miles from the sea, and once, her fleets overawed the coasts 
of Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and Barbary. She acted more- 
over as the carrier for the French in the time of the 
crusades, but the Genoese overthrew her maritime power 
in a great naval battle in the thirteenth century, and trans- 
ferred the supremacy of the Mediterranean to herself. At 
a later period, the course of the Arno changed, the port at 
its mouth was blocked up, and Leghorn came forward and 
released her from all business with the sea. Alas ! how do 
the mighty fall ! 

We returned to Leghorn in the middle of the afternoon, 
and I, leaving my friends to go on board the steamer, went 
to a sea-bathing establishment that bordered on the harbor, 
at a little distance from the dock. Having been provided 



384 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

with proper uniform, I dived under the frame-work of the 
bath, and swam out into the open water, and in addition to 
the scope thus afforded me, had the pleasure of seeing 
swarms of other bathers in near proximity, and in every 
direction. Most of these were females ; all were habited 
in attire for the purpose, and were splashing and wantoning 
about like so many mermaids, or like still more dainty and 
less fishy naiads. The water in this portion of the bay was 
but four feet deep, so they had full scope for their pranks 
without danger, and fine opportunity to rest from undue 
efforts. Such a giggling, laughing, clacking, shouting, scream- 
ing crew of revelers, I never heard. They seemed to be 
occupied rather in practical jokes than in any display of nata- 
tion, and whenever any of the party were put hors de combat 
by some stroke of generalship or inadvertence, a shout would 
burst forth, accompanied by clapping of hands, that would 
ring over the whole bay. In further commemoration of the 
circumstance, perhaps some half a dozen, yielding to the 
exuberance of their delight, would dive into the water, and 
come up with a continuation of the laugh that had agitated 
them before they went down. While this was going on, I 
laid behind a point that sheltered one party, with my head 
just bobbing on the surface, like Clodius observing the 
sacred mysteries of the Bona Dea, and at length reluctantly 
swam away, in obedience to the summons of the declining 
sun, which notified me it was time I should embark. On my 
road back to the bath, I was hailed by boat loads of beauties 
who were going out to bathe, and was also saluted by the 
freshened deputations, who passed me in their return from 
their watery gambols, to the town. 

I got on board the Castore none too soon ; in a few min- 
utes after I ascended her side she commenced her revolu- 
tions, and I was congratulated by my friends on my good 



ON BOARD THE C A STORE. 



3S5 



fortune in getting on board, in the fact that she had suffered 
an unexpected detention of an hour. Though late when we 
left, we held daylight long enough in that extended after- 
noon to see the islands of Corsica and Gorgona as we passed, 
and also time enough to lean over the side and tell story 
after story, in exchange, until night wrapped everything 
from our vision but the stars, and we were summoned by a 
common drowsiness to bed. 



17 



July, 1851. 

Civita Vecchia — Exploits of the French Army — The Ride to 
Rome — Italian Postillions — Roma the Great. 

The little steamer Castore, after being very busy all night, 
landed us safely in the port of Civita Vecchia (or Chi vita 
Veck, as it is commonly called) early on the following morn- 
ing, and when I went on deck she seemed to be enjoying 
her repose at her moorings with as much satisfaction as was 
exhibited by the tired engineer, whom 1 saw shuffling to his 
bed, or the exhausted passengers, who had just recovered an 
amiable understanding with their stomachs. 

It was Sunday morning, and the first thing I saw, as I 
turned towards the shore, was the picture of three or four 
hungry-looking French soldiers, in their fatigue-coats, per- 
fectly absorbed in holding fishing-poles in their hands, and 
in watching the fate of the lines that depended from them 
into the water. Sprinkled on other parts of the mole, and 
swarming half-clad about the doors of the barracks, ap- 
peared other military groups, belonging to the two French 
regiments now in possession of the place, while further 
along on the sandy shore of the beach, beyond the moles 
which triangularly bind in the harbor from the waves, were 
several more soldiers, refreshing the camp-horses with a 
swim. We had ample time to observe all this, and some 



CIVITA. VECCHIA 



187 



other sights that were not quite so inviting, for we were 
detained two hours by the stringent passport regulations, 
which met us at the door of his Holiness's dominions ; but 
after that delay, and the payment of some fees, we were 
permitted to land, and find our way through the strictly- 
guarded city gate to a hotel. 

While waiting for our breakfast, the Sabbath stillness of 
the morning was suddenly broken by the peal of a trum- 
pet ; next came the short, sharp rattle of the French drum, 
and close upon that swelled the full notes of a grand brass 
band, playing a march in superb style. All of us at once 
poured out on the balcony, and hard by, in the same street, 
we saw a full regiment drawn up for review. It was a very 
grand and gratifying sight, and I flattered myself with the 
hope that these warlike Gauls, who were now here for the 
repression of a Republic by way of buying favor with the 
monarchical Church of Rome, would not only pre-occupy 
the soil from the still more malicious grasp of Austria, 
but ultimately, when matters mended at Paris, would be- 
come, with their brethren in the Holy City, the deliverers 
of Italy. 

Civita Vecchia is the Trajanus Portus of the old Romans, 
and still continues to be the principal port of the Papal do- 
minions, and the western entrepot for travel and for trade 
with Rome. Its harbor was constructed by the direction of 
the Emperor Trajan, as its ancient name imports, and for 
eighteen hundred years it has been the point whence the 
legions of the old Empire, or the swarms of such of its inva- 
ders as entered from the sea, have entered in, and gone 
forth, respectively, for their most momentous expeditions. 

By a half hour's walk which I took after breakfast, I dis- 
covered that the town was laid out regularly, though it did 
not have so clean an appearance as Leghorn. Some of the 



388 



EUROPE IN A HURRY 



buildings to the north were large and imposing, but the 
southern portion exhibited rather a sorry appearance, and 
the houses seemed to be occupied by the poorest class of 
people. The men appeared to be very lazy, and had a laz- 
zaroni look ; and the women, though coarsely handsome, 
wore a disheveled and slattern appearance, that bespoke an 
absence of pride on their part, and concern on the part of 
their legal lords. In this connection, it struck me that an 
unusual number of them, or rather that a number unusual 
to any female population, carried children in their arms, and 
when I noticed the familiarity of some French soldiers who 
were drifting about among them, I fancied I could discover 
a French smirk in many of the offspring who were held up 
for admiration, some of whom I now and then stopped to 
pinch upon the cheek. If this conjecture is correct, the 
miserable population of Civita Vecchia may experience an 
improvement to compensate it for invasion, and a spirit rise 
in future times to rebuke those who were instrumental in 
implanting it. 

At nine o'clock our courier had made arrangements with 
a special conveyance to take us to Rome, or Roma, as the 
Italians call the Holy City, and a few minutes after that 
hour we passed out of the city gate which it had cost us so 
much trouble to get in. Our vehicle in this case was not 
exactly a diligence, but a lumbering carriage very much like 
it, with two divisions containing seats for six, and an open 
coupe in front holding seats for two more, with a leathern 
hood that drooped over the driver's seat like an old lady's 
scooped-shaped bonnet. In this, with the driver before us 
astride the near wheel-horse, in postillion fashion, one of 
my companions and myself took seats, under the impres- 
sion that they were the most eligible not only for comfort, 
but for obtaining a view of the country as we went along. 



RIDE TO ROME. 389 

In this we were mistaken. It had been our impression that 
every step of our progress over this classic ground would 
be attended by the deepest interest, but we soon found our- 
selves in the situation of persons who go forth to observe a 
country in a snow-storm, and whose entire time is occu- 
pied in keeping the drift out of their faces. The sun was 
broiling hot. The whole country was parched and desolate. 
Not a house or a hovel was to be seen. Scarcely a tree or 
shrub relieved the blank face of the earth, and at the outset 
of the journey only a litter of little flat hills on the left ap- 
peared to suggest the idea that nature had miscarried even 
in its endeavor to create a mountain. Soon these disap- 
peared, and from the dry and pulverized road arose succes- 
sive clouds, that blinded our eyes, and filled our ears and 
nostrils, and the crevices of our necks, with a searching and 
impalpable white powder. We were soon fairly dusted 
under, and as we sat rigidly enduring our sufferings with a 
fortitude that became American citizens, we took the appear- 
ance of rough-cast plaster busts, with nothing to disturb 
the artistic finish and effect, but the angry glossiness of our 
eyes, and an occasiona 1 sharp movement to dislodge a flea, 
who had introduced himself at Civita Vecchia, or perhaps 
insinuated himself up our boots from the horse-cloth under 
our feet. 

The postillion, a gay young ragazzo, who had set out with 
hair well oiled, and black as jet, had gradually become a 
veteran about his ear-locks, and the brown horses of our team 
had, by a like process, turned to an unexceptionable grey. 
Thus we went on, enveloped in a sort of white simoom, 
seeing nothing to relieve us, except the sea we skirted, 
and urging the postillion in vain to increase his pace beyond 
the rate of six miles to the hour. At the end of the first 
twelve miles, we came to a solitary stone hovel, the first 



390 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

building we had met, and out of it issued some four or five 
of the most forbidding and graceless looking rascals I had 
ever set my eyes on. From their lowering brows and evil 
faces, it would have been natural to have taken them for 
brigands, but the service which they lent to our driver in 
unhitching his team, proclaimed them to be hostlers, and 
relieved us from all apprehensions. A new postillion now 
took us in charge, and while he was arranging his horses, 
the old one came upon us with a demand of some half 
dollar a-piece, as his perquisite for drink money. Having 
two more ordeals of this kind to pass through, we resisted 
the exorbitant demand, as well for the sake of example on 
his successor, as on account of the intrinsic injustice of the 
attempt; so we turned him over to the management of 
Louis Cisi. The contest which then took place was highly 
interesting, but though the extortionate driver was sustained 
by all his uncombed and evil looking confreres, Louis held 
his ground, and put him off with a dollar. While this was 
going on, I observed that his successor in office took no 
notice of the dispute, from which I foolishly augured that he 
was a man of juster disposition, and was rather ashamed of 
what was going on. When all was ready he cracked his 
whip, and we lumbered slowly off, leaving the late driver 
looking at the dollar in his hand with the most ineffable con- 
tempt, while he discharged after us a volley of anathemas, 
which it would be hardly proper for me to translate. 

Our second stage was no better than the first. There was 
no improvement in the face of the country, every thing was 
parched and vacant, and were it not that we passed in one 
spot an immense stack of oat or rye stubble, to indicate that 
these plains were fruitful in their proper season, we might 
have supposed them destitute of all vegetative principle. 
Still no house accompanied this sign of habitation, and we 



ITALIAN POSTILLIONS. 391 

rode on our glaring way without seeing a human being, 
without meeting a vehicle, or without observing any living 
thing except a solitary ass, who in the excess of his dominion 
and the plenitude of his loafer ism, lay stretched at full 
length in the soft rifts of dust that filled the road. As we 
approached him, he lifted his head lazily, and having ascer- 
tained to his satisfaction that we actually intended to dis- 
turb him, he slowly rose and walked indignantly away. 
Though no great beauty to look at, he w r as very acceptable 
to our eyes in that dearth of sight, and our regret at losing 
him was softened by the consolation, that like the emblems 
which met Columbus when approaching the shores of the 
New World, he was the precursor of some inhabited country 
ahead. 

At one o'clock we arrived at a miserable little village 
inhabited by fishermen and muleteers, called Palo, where 
we were to have a change of horses and a new postillion, 
and w T here we dismounted to shake off a portion of our dust 
and to get a wretched lunch. After a wash in some fetid 
water, a draught of red wine that seemed to have been 
drawn from a tan pit, a bit of biscuit and a piece of flinty 
Parmesan cheese, that looked as if it had been struck with 
a hatchet from a cake of yellow beeswax, we returned to our 
locomotive cage to resume our journey. When the new 
driver took us in hand, the same angry scene which occurred 
between the first one and our courier, was renewed between 
him and the last, and we rolled oft* while the wordy debate 
was still at its height. 

We now left the blue edge of the Mediterranean, along 
which we had traveled in a southerly direction for twenty- 
four miles, and struck into the country from the coast in a 
more easterly direction. During this second half of the 
journey, however, neither the road nor the face of nature 



392 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

was much improved. The same mineral drift enveloped 
us ; the same treeless, shrubless, scathed, and blasted sur- 
face presented itself in all directions, and the same desola- 
tion of human forms and human habitations weighed us with 
depression. About half way from Palo to Rome, however, 
Nature seemed to rally a little, and we saw one or two 
villas, a few trees, an occasional border of hedge, and actually 
met two carts, drawn by bison-like looking oxen, who moped 
slowly along at their own pace, while the peasants in charge, 
who should have urged their steps, lay stretched prone upon 
their backs, in a sleep so sound that even the noise of our 
passage-by did not awaken them. After this interlude — this 
travestie of population — everything relapsed into solitude 
again, and nothing was to be seen but naked bolls of 
scorched earth, rolling away in waves of barrenness and 
desolation. I inquired the cause of this melancholy sight 
and the absolute desertion of so enormous a waste in the 
near vicinity of such a capital as Rome. The answer was, 
that the earth was blighted and the atmosphere baleful, and 
that no temptations of the government could succeed in 
tempting population to redeem it. The entire Campagna, 
or open country that surrounds Rome, is equally pestilential, 
while over a portion of the plain, known as the Pontine 
Marshes, some twenty miles to the south, the air is charged 
with a malaria that for ages has been notorious for its hos- 
tility to life. Nobody occupies this accursed platform, and 
no one ventures to reside in any portion of the Campagna, 
except a few outcasts whom society has driven from its 
bounds, or the brigand-like postillions who inhabit the 
gloomy post-stations on the road. These latter are generally 
desperate and reckless men, many of them fugitives from 
crime, who find refuge and association at these God-forsaken 
points, and who, taking up the trade of postillions, are 



ITALIAN POSTILLIONS. 



393 



tolerated of their offenses, because of the perils they endure 
and the service, which they render. 

The fellow whom we took at Palo, was an impudent and 
malicious rogue, and a fair representative of the class. He 
would answer no question civilly, and despite all our entrea- 
ties, we could not get him to move faster than a five-mile 
pace. To help him along, and to save time, we commis- 
sioned our courier to descend and hitch and unhitch the iron 
shoe used on the near hind wheel in going down hill, and in 
less than half an hour, the rascal had converted poor Louis 
into his servant. Instead, then, of dismounting himself, as 
he had been obliged to do before, he w r ould sit bolt upright 
in his saddle, and shouting out " Courier ! Courier !" order 
Cisi to the wheel, as if he had been his bond-slave always. 
Louis said nothing, but I could see that he meditated a 
revenge of his own, when time should place the advantage 
in his hands. 

But there w r as a motive for our postillion's drawling, 
w T hich for some time I did not discover. A vehicle, lighter 
than our own, containing a driver and three persons, had 
overtaken us, and was desirous of passing by. Our postil- 
lion, however, would not suffer it, but kept doubling from 
side to side of the road, so as to cut them off. The driver 
in the rear shouted to him to give way, and at length the 
three gentlemen joined in, by turns, to entreat him to the 
same effect. Their situation was disagreeable, not to say 
painful. Their vehicle was an open one in front, and the 
dense clouds of dust, which our huge carriage plowed into 
the air, nearly blinded and stifled them. For a time our 
driver made no answer to their outcries, but at length he 
condescended to look over his shoulder, to let them know 
that he would suffer them to go by, if they would give him 
six pauls — about as many shillings. The gentlemen w r ere 



IT 



394 EUROPE IX A HURRY. 

so incensed at this effrontery, that they refused to purchase 
comfort by submission, and came to a conclusion to horse- 
whip the rascal at the next station. When they arrived 
there, however, the spectacle of the four or five loose-girt, 
hang-gallows ruffians, who came forth in the road to assist 
him with the traces, induced them to forego their intention. 
But they dismounted, to correspond with us, and I found 
one of them, who offered me a cup of wine, and took pains 
to give me, in good English, a vivid description of his suf- 
ferings, to be an Austrian Envoy to the Papal States. The 
other two were members of his suite. While we Mere 
talking, I suggested to the Envoy to direct his driver to 
draw his horses quietly ahead of our carriage, so he could 
command the start. He did so, and he and his party, after 
an exchange of compliments all round, went off the first. 
This was our last stopping station on the road. It stood at 
the top of a hill, about twelve miles from Rome, and afforded 
us a view of the great dome of St. Peter's, apparently not 
three miles off. This was an illusion dependent on its enor- 
mous size ; a size so much greater than one is prepared to 
expect, that the conjecture of nearness is much more 
obvious to the mind, than the true state of its proportions. 
Though we were now within sight of Rome, the face of 
the country did not improve. Everything was still burnt, 
sterile and unoccupied, and desolation mocked the grandeur 
which we could casually see from the hill-tops, by envelop- 
ing it with a blight of death. Surely, never was a great 
city so discouraged of approach. It seemed impossible 
that we were in the environs of the former mistress of the 
world, and present empress of the arts. There were no 
suburbs ; no villas extending out to greet the traveler ; no 
Sunday swarms of peasantry, or artisans released from 
labor, enjoying a Sabbath leisure j no pleasant inns; no 



ARRIVAL AT ROME. 395 

cottages ; no children ; none of those sights which bespeak 
comfort and civilized life ; not even a bird wheeled a dismal 
circuit in the air, to let us know that, beside ourselves, any 
shape of animated nature could exist. Indeed, up to within 
a few hundred yards of the very gates of Rome, we met 
with but a single human being, and so strangely did he ap- 
pear to us, that his presence struck me as incongruous with 
the scene, and it seemed as if he were some fugitive who 
had eluded the vigilance of the centurions at the gates, and 
made his escape from the city. At a little distance further 
on we met another man, and save the sleeping muleteers, 
and the people at Palo, and the stations, these were the only 
two human beings belonging to the country whom we saw 
in a journey of forty-eight miles. 

At six o'clock or thereabouts, perhaps at seven, we pass- 
ed the French guards, entered the western gate of Rome, 
and crossing the Tiber by the bridge of St. Angelo, plunged 
in the heart of the city, making our way as straight as pos- 
sible to the custom-house. Here we were subjected to a 
new inspection of our luggage, an annoyance which we had 
hoped to escape, from the fact that the servants of his Holi- 
ness, in the department of the customs at Civita Vecchia, 
had very carefully performed that office in the morning, 
and as the seals attesting their scrutiny and care had not 
been broken. Nevertheless, we bore the delay with the ut- 
most fortitude, and resolutely abstained from giving a single 
farthing to those who thus unnecessarily contributed to our 
discomfort. When the search was over, we attempted to 
get in the diligence again, to be driven with our luggage to 
a hotel, but to our great surprise, we were refused this pri- 
vilege by our rascally postillion, who had taken a notion to 
leave us where we were. There were no carriages near, 
and we were in a terrible plight to march through the 



396 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

swarming Corso of a Sunday afternoon. However, there 
was no alternative ; so, resigning our baggage to a horde of 
lazy looking fellows who had been regarding it with the 
eyes of spoilers for several minutes, we prepared to stump 
it to our lodgings. Before starting, however, I took the op- 
portunity of telling the postillion, when he held out his 
hand for money, that I regarded him as the most refreshing 
specimen of a rascal whom I had met with while in Europe, 
and if it were not for a trifling objection made by the ladies, 
I would reward him for his behavior by kicking him all 
around the court-yard. He then appealed to Cisi, but 1 
charged the courier not to give him a cent. Then came 
Louis' turn, and at length burst forth the courier's pent-up 
rage. It was in vain the postillion offered to compromise 
and come to terms ; Louis was not only inexorable, but he 
embittered the rogue's submission by the keenest taunts, 
and left him with a laugh that must have been a full com- 
pensation for all the previous insults he had suffered. 

At length away our party streamed toward the Hotel 
d'Angleterre, presenting a most ludicrous appearance in our 
dusty dresses, and looking more ludicrous still from the fact 
of being led and followed by a small army of baggage 
smashers and beggars, the latter of whom threatened often, 
by their eagerness, to trip us up. For my single trunk and 
carpet-bag alone, there were four huge loafers in commis- 
sion. One fellow, who seemed to be the captain, wheeled 
the trunk on a barrow ; two of his suite or staff walked on 
each side and steadied it with their hands, while a sort of 
scout or cooley marched some yards ahead, carrying my 
carpet-bag with the same air of triumph that had descended 
on him when he plucked it successfully from an undersized 
competitor in the custom-house yard. I paid every one of 
these without demur on arriving at the hotel, and the de- 



ARRIVAL AT ROME. 397 

tachment drew off, satisfied with my liberality, and trans- 
ported with admiration at the succession of very ceremo- 
nious bows with which I dismissed them ; returning the 
courtesies at an advantage of some twenty-five per cent, in 
my favor, as they backed away from me, quite across the 
street. Just as this scene was closing, I heard a clear and 
hearty laugh above, and looking up, perceived in an oppo- 
site window, a good-natured and handsome female face, of 
some twenty-five or thirty years of age, enjoying the joke 
with a more apparent relish even than myself. At such an 
intervention, I made one extra bow, of course, retreating 
decorously into the house, and summoned the landlord for a 
room. 

I soon relieved myself of the accumulation of soil I had 
gathered throughout the day, got myself into christian trim 
again, and throwing open my blinds, found myself, by an 
unexpected coincidence, vis-a-vis with the good-natured fe- 
male face which had been so much delighted at the ceremo- 
nious exchanges that had passed between me and the cus- 
tom-house lazzaroni a little while before. I had but time 
to observe that there was a very fat padre in the same room, 
and to notice that a somewhat older woman was engaged in 
setting out a meal before him, when the servant knocked at 
my door and communicated to me the delightful intelli- 
gence that my dinner was ready. 



L 



Rome, July, 1851. 

The Forum of Trajan — The Column of Antoninus — The 
Corso — The Widow Perplexed — The Capitol — The Dying 
Gladiator — House of Rienzi. 

There are many things in Rome which demand the atten- 
tion of the stranger, besides its curiosities of time and art. 
Tired as I was, I found a dozen of them between my sheets, 
after the first half hour's doze that waited on my lying 
down, but by diligent effort, and the use of a deluge of the 
perfumed water of Jean Marina Farina, brought with me 
from Cologne, I conquered a short peace, and fell asleep 
again. This time weariness carried me through, and nature 
held out against disturbance until seven o'clock in the morn- 
ing. Recollecting then that I was in Rome, I hurried out 
of bed like a boy who has overslept himself on Christmas 
morning, and without seeking for the courier, or making any 
inquiries for my companions, I went forth to obtain a glimpse 
of the city. 

I had made a very early acquaintance with Rome, having 
commenced to read its history, and consequently to lay out 
its streets and erect its buildings, at six years of age, and I 
was quite familiar, in imagination, with all the avenues and 
edifices, where the early masters of the world had made 
their processions and their promenades. I was quite sur- 



ROME. 399 

prised, therefore, when I found this elaborate empire of the 
mind vanish in an instant, and give me no better exchange 
than a general aspect of narrowness and dirt ; and for the 
lordly phantoms who should all the while have stalked about 
in togas, no nobler representatives than a sallow, vapid, 
limpsy looking people, wearing for the most part our own 
parody of costume, diversified by a large sprinkling of black 
spectres who flitted about in the shape of shovel-hatted 
priests, with now and then a pulk of French soldiers march- 
ing to and from their quarters. I felt as if I had mistaken 
my journey and landed in a wrong place, but when I wan- 
dered to an open forum where a forest of broken columns 
held up their riven heads in piteous desolation, I was 
reminded that the "Niobe of Nations" lay beneath my 
feet, and that nearly two thousand years had not sufficed to 
cover all her matchless beauty with the grave. The column 
of Antoninus Pius, which rose one hundred and twenty -two 
feet in height from the centre of the piazza Collona, met me 
on my return, and the last fragment of my doubts submit- 
ted to the reality that I was in Rome. I felt very glad 
that I was, and having distinguished a barber's-shop by the 
unmistakable sign for all nations, was further made happy 
in the discovery of a veritable American barber's chair, and 
in getting an artistic shave. I soon rejoiced in a clean face, 
rejecting again an invitation to leave a foundation for mus- 
tachios, and went back to my hotel in such a contented state 
of mind, that my cheerfulness of aspect was the subject of 
immediate compliment on the part of my friends. I am 
sorry to say, however, that they did not seem so tranquil. 
Their sleep had been disturbed by their new Roman friends, 
to an extent that had rendered their appearance jaded, and 
they were in a much better humor for complaining than for 
sight-seeing. 



400 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

After breakfast, having some business to transact and 
letters to present, I chartered a proper vehicle, engaged a 
valet de place, and set out by myself, but under his guidance, 
for Torlonia's the banker's. Having drawn some money 
there for the expenses of my Italian campaign, and inquired 
in vain for a budget of letters which should have reached 
me at Milan, I turned in the direction of the residence of 
Mr. Cass, the American Charge. On my road to the Piazza 
del Popolo, I passed the superb column of Trajan, which is 
the model of the triumphal pillar of Napoleon, in the Place 
Vendome, at Paris. Though not so great in height as the 
column of Antoninus Pius, it is more elegant in its propor- 
tions, and though earlier in date, its fine basso relievos, repre- 
senting the achievements of the Emperor, are much better 
preserved. Its congruity has suffered an invasion, however, 
similar to that which befell the Parisian copy, at the down- 
fall of the French Emperor, and in the place of the figure of 
its imperial Roman founder, which it once bore upon its 
apex, now stands a colossal statue of St. Paul. But there 
is a congruity even in this apparent contradiction ; for the 
pillar, equally with the stony heart of the apostle, proves 
that the most obdurate materials may be converted to the 
purposes of Christianity. 

From the column of Trajan, we drove to and through the 
Corso, or principal avenue of modern Rome. This extends 
from one end of the city to the other in a straight line, and 
forms its principal promenade and business street. It is 
filled with fine palaces and handsome shops, and being fifty 
feet wide, it enables the best of them to show to some ad- 
vantage. Here the wealthier portion of the population do 
their shopping, and here, in the afternoon, they drive along 
in their coaches, as in the Paseo in Havana, and the Champs 
Elysees in Paris. It is in this favorite avenue, too, that, 



ROME. 401 

in Carnival times, the races are conducted; the riderless 
steeds, being started in a pulk at the Capitoline Hill, at 
one extremity, and finding their goal in the Piazza del Po- 
polo at the other end ; a distance of somewhat more than 
a mile. 

While rolling leisurely along the Corso, my guide sud- 
denly directed the coachman to draw up, and touching his 
hat to me, informed me that Mr. Cass was coming in our 
direction, a few yards ahead. The minister received me 
very cordially, and after a short conversation, took a seat in 
my barouche, and returned to his residence in order to fur- 
nish me with a volume containing certain printed directions, 
which he said would facilitate me in a rapid examination of 
tlie Holy City. His obligation to visit an American gentle- 
man, a stranger, whom he had been informed was lying at 
the point of death, prevented him from accompanying me 
further, but he promised to call on me in his carriage after 
dinner, in order that we might keep up with the. proverb, 
of " while in Rome, doing as the Romans do." Having 
left Mr. C, I resigned myself again to the direction of 
my guide, and to the pleasant occupation of occasional ly 
knocking from the surface of my drilling pantaloons, the 
rogues of fleas who kept perseveringly jumping upon me 
from the floor-cloth of the carriage. I was tolerably suc- 
cessful in this pursuit, having baffled all the host from making 
a lodgment beyond my outworks for more than an hour. 
At the end of that time, however, a fellow of considerable 
genius and perseverance succeeded in eluding my vigilance, 
and penetrated my defenses, to the very small of my back, 
whereupon I relinquished the contest, and resigned myself 
to a sort of despair. 

It may be thought that I am peculiarly sensitive on the 
subject of fleas. 1 confess I have a prejudice against them; 



402 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

nevertheless, I do not exaggerate the subject. Since I struck 
Genoa, in my southward course, they have occupied the 
largest share of my attention, and as I am recording my 
daily impressions, and the incidents which cause them, I 
cannot slight this Italian feature, without unfaithfulness to 
my task. It is likely that the evil is aggravated very much 
by the dryness of the atmosphere and the heat of the weather 
during the summer months, but I state things as I find them, 
and offer no apology for the truth. I have only to add to 
this branch of my observations, at present, that if the little 
trou biers weather the winter months, as well as the summer 
ones, then the Italians, between Rome and Genoa, are as 
well flea-bitten, the year round, as were the people of Pha- 
raoh during the visitation of the second plague of Egypt. 

In due time, and in despite of the fleas, we reached the 
" Piazza del Popolo" a large square fronting the famous 
Pincian Hall, and terminating at the northern end, near the 
old Flaminian Gate, in the Porta del Popolo. Just by this 
gate, which I found guarded, of course, by the everlasting 
French soldiers, stands an unpretending little church, called 
the church of Mary. I entered it at the recommendation of 
my guide, and drawing aside the heavy serge curtain, which 
filled the doorway and excluded the outer air, I found myself 
transferred to an atmosphere of most refreshing coolness and 
agreeable quiet. There were several forms kneeling about 
in different places, and some were sitting idle, as if they had 
selected the place as a retreat merely from the oppressive 
heat outside. In a distant nook, an aged priest was silently 
going through some motions and genuflexions, in which a 
knot of kneeling devotees grouped near him, took a deep 
interest, while two or three strangers, like myself, were 
moving slowly round the interior, observing the paintings in 
the side chapels. As I was returning towards the door, my 



THE WIDOW PERPLEXED. 403 

attention was suddenly riveted by a bust, or rather a half- 
length figure, of a female form, set in an alcove and fenced 
across with heavy bars of iron, so as to represent a prisoner 
looking through a grate. The figure was draped in serge, 
and it wore a hood or cowl, but instead of the human fea- 
tures, which should have appeared within its folds, there 
grinned a skull, artistically cut in polished ivory. I turned 
to my guide for an explanation, and he gave me the follow- 
ing story : 

".The effigy represented a very wealthy lady, who had 
been a great patron of the church of Mary, and who, on her 
death-bed, had been persuaded by the excellent fathers of 
that establishment that the repose of her soul would be best 
provided for, by leaving her huge estates to their establish- 
ment. This circumstance came, however, to the ears of a 
vigilant padre of the church of Jesus, who, gaining access to 
the invalid, endeavored to convince her that it would be a 
much more eligible arrangement to leave her property and 
her future interests in the -care of the Jesuit chapel. 

" The good lady was sorely puzzled ; she was desirous of 
making the best bargain possible, now that two contractors 
for her heavenly repose were in the field, and yet she feared 
to give offense to either. At length it struck her, that she 
would divide her fortunes between the establishments, and 
thus secure the ministrations of both, and die out of their 
hands, leaving them satisfied. Having done this she gave 
up the ghost. Alas, she made a great mistake. The church 
of Mary which had expected all, disputed the codicil in a 
suit at law ; and the church of Jesus which had hoped for 
all, was equally dissatisfied with its luck, and accepted the 
legal contest. The dispute lasted for some years, but while 
it. was going on, a lot of keen outside friars, like the fox in 
the fable during the strife of the lion and the tiger for the 



404 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

lamb, organized a church which they called 'Jesus and 
Mary,' and received the entire fortune from the sacred tri- 
bunal, as an avoidance of all further strife. This decision 
was most disastrous to the unfortunate beneficiary. The 
good fathers of the church of Mary, incensed beyond mea- 
sure at the fickleness of purpose which had cost them so 
much, condemned the poor lady to remain in purgatory for 
ever and ever, while the friars of the church of Jesus, being 
in receipt of nothing for good offices, have not felt called 
upon to take her out. To make her punishment more signal, 
and at the same time to convert her folly into a lesson, the 
holy fathers of the former church have put her in this iron 
cage, " and poor creature," concluded my guide, " she is 
now burning, burning, burning, worse than any poor devil 
who never gave a scudi to the cause of Christ !" 

" Between the two stools then, she fell to the ground," 
said I, musingly. 

"Yes sir," added the guide; "and 1 believe there is 
something in the proverb which says, that 'one better have 
the devil for his friend, than have none.' " 

Upon this, we issued from the church and resumed our 
carriage to set out for the Capitol, on Capitoline Hill. Be- 
fore leaving the Piazza del Popolo, however, I should not 
omit to give it credit for a fine Egyptian obelisk of brown 
stone, of great antiquity, brought from the Heathen Temple 
of the Sun at Heliopolis, but now consecrated at its summit 
by a Christian cross. Neither should I forget to mention 
my guide's warning, that the Piazza del Popolo and its vi- 
cinity is generally subject to malaria during the summer 
months, and is by no means a place to promenade in after 
night-fall, when the pestiferous miasma descends upon the 
earth. Indeed, he informed me that it was not safe for a 
stranger to be anywhere abroad in Rome during the torrid 



THE CAPITOL. 405 

season after evening had set in, and I communicate his wis- 
dom for the benefit of those who may follow after me. 

We re-traversed the whole Corso and the entire length of 
the city to get to Capitoline Hill, that celebrated spot which 
performed so important a part in all the history of ancient 
Rome. The carriage ascent is made by two rather steep 
and crescent-shaped avenues, which skirt the main steps 
and meet in a platform above, the sides of which are lined 
by two Palaces of Arts, and the back ground occupied by 
the Palace of the Senator, containing offices of Justice, and 
surmounted by a tower. The ascent to the platform is ren- 
dered imposing by two gigantic equestrian statues of Castor 
and Pollux standing by their horses, and the platform or 
square itself is ornamented by a mounted bronze figure of 
Marcus Aurelius, which is said to be the finest equestrian 
statue in existence. The Tower of the Capitol, however, 
was the place which I had come on this occasion especially 
to visit, for, according to the guide books, and also accord- 
ing to my guide, a stranger should commence his examina- 
tion of Rome by the topographical view which this point 
affords, of all the divisions of the old and modern city. 
We therefore mounted without delay, and after a tedious 
circuit round many a weary flight of stairs, found ourselves 
in the open belfry of the Tower, with a grand panorama ly- 
ing wide around us, and narrowing to the city which nestled 
at our feet. That which spread at a distance was the blank 
campagna, burnt and sere, and further on over its brown 
waste appeared the reliefs of the Sabine Hills, next the 
mountains whence of old the Volsci issued, and further still 
the Appenines. To the south the finger of the guide point- 
ed to where lay the pestilential Pontine marshes ; next 
it fell upon a portion of the plain where once was pitched 
the camp of Hannibal ; and then it moved descriptively up 



406 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

and clown, and bade me mark the course of the Tiber where 
it still ran on, unconscious of the past, and in the very bed 
which it pursued when it was the line that divided ancient 
Latium and Etruria. A few villas ventured out to a little 
distance from the city here and there, and now and then a 
village with its clump of trees might be seen to diversify 
the prospect further on, but everything seemed faded, and 
the sapless earth looked as if no season could redeem it into 
verdure. The view I am told, however, is very different in 
the proper months. Nearer where we stood clustered the 
habitable quarters, and we saw distinctly marked upon the 
seven hills, the bones of the old metropolis, mixed in great 
part among the living structures and veins and muscles of 
the new. Prominent in the latter division swelled the 
proud cathedral of St. Peter's ; and superior above all the 
remains of the dead city, loomed the great mastodon of edi- 
fices — the fractured, roofless, empty carcass of the Coliseum ; 
woeful, but not voiceless — desolate, but not undignified ; 
mightiest of its day, but mightier because its day is past, 
and containing more, in the joyless circle of its walls, of 
the history of departed times, than the tongues of a thou- 
sand living lecturers can teach. 

Having studied Rome from this perch for an hour or 
more, I descended, and entered the palace to the right of 
the platform, which is called the museum of the capital. 
It is free of access, on paying a small fee to the custodian, 
and I found it filled with marbles of the rarest merit, which 
had been gathered from time to time from the excavated 
Roman palaces they had once adorned. The best of these 
— I should rather say, those which interested me most — 
were the celebrated Dying Gladiator, the Fawn of Praxit- 
eles, and the famous Antinous, which for a time contended 
for the palm of exquisite manly beauty with the Apollo 



ROME. 407 

Belvidere. There is also a very fine Venus here in a reserved 
room, which may be seen for an extra fee, but it is not 
equal in merit to either the Gladiator or the Faun. The 
museum opposite, called the " Palace of the Conservatori," 
consists principally of a collection of marble busts, in which 
those by Canova, despite the claims of the ancient ones, 
seemed to me to be very much the best. In a great hall up 
stairs are some fine frescoes ; another hall contains a large 
collection of paintings, and in two others are respectively 
the famous Bronze Wolf, with the infant figures of Romulus 
and Remus at its dugs, which is alluded to by Cicero as 
having been struck by lightning in the Capitol ; and the two 
Bronze Geese found in the ruins of the Tarpeian Rock, and 
which .were originally cast in commemoration of the geese 
who waked the sleeping sentinels to the timely defense of 
Rome. Taking a hint from these latter emblems, as to the 
Tarpeian Rock, I left the Palace of the Conservatori, and 
made a turn to the left through a short, dirty street which 
seemed to breed ducks, as if they w r ere an honor to the 
place, until I came to a rude garden-gate. The pull of a 
string here rang a bell, and brought a stout, good-natured 
woman forth, who let us in, and we found our way to a corner 
of the garden, which my guide told me was the veritable 
spot whence the great criminals from the Capitoline dun- 
geons, and the traitors of the State, were cast headlong forth 
in times of old. Most modern travelers have not been im- 
pressed with the Tarpeian height which history has repre- 
sented as so awful, but I confess it seemed to me quite 
sufficient for all purposes of State, and sure to break any 
man's neck who was cast headlong forth. The precipice is, 
however, much reduced by the accumulation of soil which 
has gathered at its base, and, as it appears, more freely than 



408 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

in any other place. Its height is still, however, some sixty 
or seventy feet. 

From the Tarpeian Rock, I returned to my hotel, well 
satisfied with my morning's work, and with plenty of infor- 
mation to exchange with my friends, who had followed a 
different course. 

After dinner Mr. Cass called for me with his carriage, and 
we took a drive first along the Corso, then to the Coliseum, 
passing in our road the ruins of the Palace of the Caesars, 
and the arch of Constantine. Pursuing our way after a due 
examination of these relics, we reached the superb arch of 
Titus, the model of the gigantic one in Paris, at the barrier 
de l'Etoile, in commemoration of the victories of Napoleon. 
Our next observation was the beautiful little Temple of 
Vesta, one of the best preservations of Rome, and oftenest 
reproduced in mosaics, and we finished by a visit to the 
house of Rienzi, the last of the Tribunes. This building is 
now used as a stable, so we did not enter, and the day being 
on the point of closing, we returned to the Hotel d'Angle- 
terre, where Mr. C. courteously set me down ; and into the 
depths of which I was glad to retire, to make a few notes 
previous to going to bed. 



Rome, July, 1851. 

The Coliseum — The Mamertine Prisons — The Pantheon — 
St. Peter's — The Apollo Belvidere — Excavations for Statues. 

I was awakened at an early hour of my second day in the 
Holy City, by the sound of a detachment of soldiers march- 
ing underneath my windows. Shortly after followed the 
carol of a trumpet and the clatter of hoofs, and somewhat 
later came the grand swell of a full band, and the precise 
tramp of a heavy column of infantry. All these signs 
reminded me that the Gauls were once more masters of 
Rome, and when I had sufficiently reflected on this parody 
of ancient history, I jumped out of bed. 

The grandeur of the Coliseum on the day before had 
made a profound impression on my mind, and, early as it 
was, I set out to renew my examination of its remains. I 
had the visit quite to myself, and walked for a time about 
its vast arena, where once had thronged the myriads of the 
Imperial City, entirely alone. No sound disturbed the 
solitude of the place but the dull echo of my own footfall — 
no object moved, except some gliding lizard, startled by my 
step. Presently, there entered by one of the gaps towards 
the open country, an old woman, leading a little girl by the 
hand, who, advancing to a rude cross planted in the centre 

18 



I 

410 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of the arena, knelt piously before it and devoted themselves 
to prayer. Their last act was to rise and kiss the cross, 
whereupon they went away. I subsequently learned that 
this cross, and a plain pulpit near it, were established here 
in commemoration of the massacres of the early Christians 
who had perished within these walls ; and I further learned, 
that the kissing of that cross conferred an indulgence to the 
pilgrim of two hundred days. 

The form of the Coliseum is oval or elliptical, and its ex- 
tent may be conveyed by the facts, that its structure covers 
nearly six acres of ground, and that its four stories were 
originally one hundred and fifty-seven feet in height. Eighty- 
seven thousand people were provided with seats around its 
arena, while if the arena itself were filled, as in case of a pop- 
ular assemblage, it might have held the population of all 
Rome. Underneath the platform or floor of the amphithea- 
tre, which was supposed to have been laid with wood, were 
situated a row of dens and dungeons, the latter containing 
malefactors or heretics who were to be torn to pieces, and 
the former the tigers and other wild beasts who were to tear 
them. The gladiators, who contended hand to hand for 
victory and life, were brought in from better quarters, to 
pay the spectators for their good food and good training by 
vigorous strokes at their opponents. These combatants 
were either brawny malefactors, or some lusty Goths or 
Gauls captured in the way of war. The scene is changed 
now, and as I touch this portion of the past, I do not wonder 
that the French drum tattoos so saucily about these hum- 
bled ruins. 

Though still the vastest recollection of old Rome, the 
Coliseum has been much reduced, and has suffered more 
from the hands of domestic spoilers than from the tooth of 
time, or the spite of the barbarians who at various times 



THE COLISEUM. 411 

became masters of the city. Two thirds of its material are 
said to have been lugged away by the Roman magnates of 
the middle ages for the construction of their lordly dwell- 
ings, and three or four extensive palaces were pointed out 
to me in the modern city, that were built entirely out of its 
stones. Indeed, for more than two hundred years it lay 
open to the plunder of all who wished to avail themselves 
of hewn stone for new buildings ; and yet, so enormous is 
its size, that on a casual glance, you can scarcely distinguish 
were it has lost. The spoliation of the mammoth was stop- 
ped, however, in the fifteenth century ; and subsequently, 
Pope Paul the Seventh, solicitous for its continued preser- 
vation, nerved it with iron clamps, and propped its southern 
side with a strong wall of masonry. It is at this point 
that you get the best idea of the vastness of the structure, 
for notwithstanding the millions of bricks that are put up 
to make this angle, and the great expense that attended its 
construction, it looks like a mere bit of cord or binding on 
the edge of a field of cloth. The same solicitude is shown 
by the present government for the preservation of all the 
older ruins, for modern Rome has learned that much of her 
present greatness depends entirely upon her proofs of the 
greatness of the past. 

From the Coliseum, I paid a visit to the Mamertine Pri- 
sons, those awful stone dungeons under ground, where Ju- 
gurtha was starved to death, and where the holy apostle St. 
Peter is said to have been confined. Nay, I was shown the 
very pillar to which the apostle was chained, and was re- 
freshed, also, by the mark of his feet in the spot where he 
stood w r hen he performed certain miracles, well authenticated 
in' the records of the church. There were no fragments left 
of the chain which fell to pieces when he was miraculously 
released at the summons of the angel, but I had seen one 



412 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of the links of that chain at the church of the Eleven Thou- 
sand Virgins, in Cologne, so my curiosity was satisfied upon 
that point. On ascending from these horrible dens, 1 paid 
rather more attention than when I had entered, to a little 
oratory above, where a crowd of humble devotees were 
kneeling and praying, and propitiating the evangelist by 
votive offerings. Indulgences of greater or less lengths are 
granted for certain acts performed here by the faithful, as in 
the case of the cross at the Coliseum ; and as I came out my 
attention was directed to a church not very far away, which 
granted similar exemptions on performance of some cere- 
mony at its threshold. These things considered, Rome is a 
very eligible place to live in, for those who do not wish to 
wear too tight a bridle on their appetites or conscience. 

After breakfast, I drove to the Roman Forum, thence to 
several pagan temples, now converted into christian churches, 
and finally finished my researches among antiquities for the 
day, by a visit to the Pantheon, the best preserved and 
most famous, in the way of architectural excellence, of any 
of the remains of Rome. It is the portico, however, which 
has gained for the Pantheon its great reputation, and the 
merit of which is so remarkable that it drew from a very 
great English critic (Forsyth) the very silly remark that it 
was " more than faultless." The Pantheon simply consists 
of a portico of sixteen Corinthian columns, supporting a plain 
pediment, eight columns being ranged in front, and the rest 
in rows behind, so as to make a vestibule of columns. The 
body of the building before which this is placed, is a plain ro- 
tunda, supporting a dome of exquisite proportions, the cen- 
tre of which is open to the air by a circular aperture in the 
roof, bound with a rim of brass. There are no windows. 
Through the open circle in the dome alone comes all the 
light and air for the space within, and through that opening 



THE PANTHEON. 413 

for nearly two thousand years have the elements beaten 
without damage to the structure. The effect, both within 
and without this building, is unquestionably very fine, but I 
think it will fail at first to inspire the rapture which its 
world-wide fame invokes. It will grow towards the appre- 
ciations, however, the more#it is observed, and maintain 
its claims to preeminence better after frequent examination 
than at first. That is the law with all true excellence. 
Virtue is coy. Anything that is really good disdains to 
triumph except through the most deliberate operations of 
the judgment. 

The Pantheon has, too, a more teeming history than any 
other monument of ancient Rome/ It has weathered all 
vicissitudes of government ; it has stood unscathed amid 
barbarian conflagration ; it has escaped the wantonness of 
Attila, the ferocity of Genseric, Guiscard, Vitiges, and 
other ravagers of art. Time, even, and its storms, have 
not been able to debilitate, much less to conquer it. It has 
yielded but in one way. The faith to which it was sancti- 
fied is no more practiced within its walls. In turn it has 
let its altars to pagans and idolaters. One by one their 
doctrines have faded out, and it now is occupied by the min- 
isters of the Christian church. 

M Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime — 
Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods, 
From Jove to Jesus — " 

is the expression which is struck from the glowing mind of 
Byron, on his contemplation of its history, and "what revo- 
lution for its altars next V must be the question, which 
arises in the mind of every person else. 

• From the Pantheon I drove to St. Peter's, the grandest 
monument of modern Rome, and doubtless the most won- 
drous pile that ever was constructed by any nation, whether 



414 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

old or new. The site of the Coliseum is not much more 
vast, and its purposes condemned its grandeur mainly to the 
magnificence of size; while St. Peter's unites size and 
beauty, sentiment, harmony, proportion, fitness, dignity, and 
everything that can render architecture attractive and im- 
posing. The Coliseum spans* nearly six acres, St. Peter's 
covers nearly five, while St. Paul's of London, of which the 
English boast so much, occupies only two. The Coliseum, 
however, covers all of its ground, while St. Paul's of Lon- 
don has a church-yard, and St. Peter's occupies a good slice 
of its five acres by a superb colonnade and circular court- 
yard in front. 

The foundation-stone of this wonderful edifice was laid 
by Pope Julius II., in the year 1506, on the site of an old 
church built by the Emperor Constantine, to mark St. 
Peter's grave. For a time it proceeded very slowly, and 
but a portion of its foundations were laid, when, in the 
middle of that century, it was committed to the charge of 
Michael Angelo, the man of all the world who, from the 
boldness of his genius, was fitted to be entrusted with the 
task. The object was to excel all structures of the past ; 
and Angelo had not only a daring and improving mind, but 
was tinctured with less pedantry than any who had pre- 
ceded him. Better still, he knew how to discriminate be- 
tween all the degrees of beauty, and was not insensible, 
through egotism, to excellencies, even when originated by 
others. When, therefore, Angelo sat down to his gigantic 
task, the size of the Coliseum was doubtless first in his 
mind ; and when he thought further on, came probably the 
chaste and surpassing beauty of the Pantheon. There was 
trouble in this conjunction. No calculation of means would 
enable him to lay out his foundation to the enormous plat- 
form of the first, and even his genius must have felt dubious 



ST. PETER S. 415 

of excelling the second — the architectural gem of eighteen 
hundred years. Consulting, too, the pecuniary condition of 
the later times, he did not encourage himself to make the 
Cathedral excel the Coliseum in bulk ; hut as for the Pan- 
theon, said Angelo, " I will take that, and put it into the 
dome of St. Peter's." And there it stands, with the excep- 
tion of its portico, poised a hundred and fifty feet above the 
ground-floor, in the air. The task of laying out a plan for 
this Cathedral was not confided to Michael Angelo. until 
he was in his seventy-fifth year ; but it may be safely 
named as the greatest achievement of his life. On the day 
after visiting it, I was asked by a friend of what material it 
was built, and so strongly did the triumph of the architect 
dwell upon me, that I involuntarily answered^ that it was 
built out of the genius of Michael Angelo, and that every 
arch and pillar was a portion. of the majestic structure of 
his mind. 

On entering the church I did not find myself as suddenly 
impressed with its vastness as I expected, and it was not 
until I had marched about its aisles and chapels for an hour, 
that I began practically to comprehend its great extent. 
My guide, who knew all the illusions of the place, took 
great pleasure in eliciting my surprise, and in bringing me 
in contact with marble statues, which seemed at a distance 
to be the size of life, but when approached proved of gigan- 
tic proportions. The figures in the dome, worked in mosaic, 
share in this illusion, and yet they were sixteen feet in height, 
while a pen in the hands of St. Mark, in a subordinate curve 
of the ceiling, that appeared to the eye the length of an 
ordinary goose-quill, I was told, would measure just six feet. 
Everything inside of this grand Cathedral is on the same 
scale with the exterior, and every figure is consistent with 
its size. The floor is laid with colored marbles; the niches 



416 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

are filled with grand statues of the saints, and the side 
chapels and walls are decorated with superb mosaic copies 
of the great paintings of the old masters. The high altar 
stands in the centre of the church under the dome, and 
directly over the sepulchre of St. Peter, and around the 
steps which lead to the shrine, a hundred and twelve lamps 
are continually burning, night and day. I thought as I 
looked at this pious display, of the masses which Henry the 
Fifth of England had vainly decreed should be annually 
said over his body in Westminster Abbey, and of the lights 
which Queen Eleanor had ineffectually ordered should burn 
forever around her tomb in the same place, and I wondered 
how many centuries it was probable these lights would live 
against some new reformation, or new revolution in the 
Church. Around the altar and against the shafts of the 
dome are the statues of four saints, who in balconies above 
their heads have the custody of the most choice relics of the 
sanctuary. One of these contains the handkerchief with 
which Jesus wiped his face when bearing the cross, and 
which is said to contain an exact representation of his fea- 
tures ; another holds a veritable portion of the true cross. 
St. Andrew guards the relic of his own head ; and St. Lon- 
ginus, the soldier who pierced the side of Christ, still keeps 
the custody of his bloody lance. Another relic in the same 
circle is a column, or rather two columns, brought from the 
original Temple at Jerusalem. I shall, from this point, 
attempt no further description of this Cathedral, but in con- 
cluding my brief notice of it, I may as well help the concep- 
tion of its size, by a remark of Mr. Cass, that he saw at one 
time sixty thousand soldiers stand up and hear mass in its 
aisles, and by the further fact, that the entire cost of the 
edifice has been estimated at between seventy and eighty 
millions of dollars. 



THE APOLLO BELVIDERE. 417 

From St. Peter's I turned into the adjoining palace of the 
Vatican, or rather into that part of it which contains the 
most famous museum of marbles and paintings in the world. 
Here I saw the celebrated School of Athens, by Raphael ; 
the Last Judgment, by Michael Angelo, and many other 
first class pictures by both of these, and several other illus- 
trious masters. The museum of marbles contains three thou- 
sand specimens, among the finest and most renowned of 
which are the Laocoon and the Apollo Belvidere. 

It is difficult to describe the effects which the contempla- 
tion of this latter master-piece of sculpture produces. The 
figure is so delicately beautiful and yet so vigorous : it is so 
earnest, and yet so confident; so calmly dignified, and yet 
so full of quiet action, that life seems to issue from every 
pore, and you almost fancy you can hear it breathe. There 
is nothing in it that is extravagant ; nothing that is tame. 
It is full of majesty without being theatrical ; and with no 
strife for effect, its noble features wear the superior impress 
of a God. Its position is that of an archer who has just let 
fly a shaft, and by looking at the noble sportsman's face, 
you can fairly travel with the arrow, and rest with his eye 
upon the stricken game. The figure has but little drapery, 
but what it has is matchless, and the mantle that falls from 
the right arm is so airy and so natural, that it seems to be 
gently drifting in the air. In this you behold the last refine- 
ment of art, and its effect on me was, to render me content 
to forego a visit to the Venus de Medicis at Florence ; for I 
felt, that in the Apollo, I had witnessed the highest triumph 
of the chisel. Good judges, who have seen both, will decide 
how nearly I am right. Everybody who has seen this, will 
say how deplorably distant from the truth, is every imita- 
tion of the figure. 

The Apollo was found among the ruins of an imperial 



418 EUROPE IS A HUREY. 

villa at Antium, and brought to Rome in the sixteenth cen- 
tury ; " the Laocoon," which is a group of a father and two 
boys perishing in the hideous folds of serpents, was taken 
from the ruins of the palace of the Emperor Titus. It was 
discovered in 1506 by a man of slender means, and so 
highly was " the wonder of art" esteemed, that the Pope 
conferred upon him a large share of the revenues of one of 
the city gates as his reward. All, or nearly all of the 
marbles in this museum were recovered in this way, and 
most of them exhibit the highest evidences of genius. Excava- 
tions are continually going on, sometimes by private persons 
and sometimes on Government account, and hardly a day 
transpires but some new and long lost gem of art is brought 
to light. Old Rome, it will be borne in mind, lies imbedded 
under the modern surface of the earth, some sixteen or 
eighteen feet, and in many places, parts of the new city are 
built above the ruins of the old. This proceeds from the 
drift and accumulation of the soil that has been going on for 
nearly two centuries, and it very often happens, that in exca- 
vations for a foundation, some antique boudoir of lady fair, 
or library of learned senator is broken into, and extracted 
of graceful marbles that were once the ornament of its volup- 
tuous occupants. The French have done a great deal in the 
way of excavation since they have been here, and among 
their worthiest efforts are the unearthing of the columns in 
the forum Trajan, and clearing the floor of the Coliseum, of 
its immense deposits of earth and rubbish. The statues and 
busts are always found imbedded in the earth, lying in 
various positions, as they fell, some broken and some unim- 
paired. They are always swathed with a rather compact 
coating of clay, which winding sheet is formed by the damp- 
ness of the stone, making the earth plastic to its curves. 
When marbles are thus discovered, they belong, as do all 



ROME. 



419 



hidden treasures, to the Government, and deportation is for- 
bidden by heavy penalties. This, though it denies the trea- 
sures to the world, is unquestionably a wise regulation on 
the part of the Roman State. Her stock in trade is religion 
and treasures in the arts, and if either are reduced, and more 
particularly the latter, the pilgrims who now support her 
would decrease, and she would in a few years be little better 
than the waste which now spreads vacant over the grave of 
Athens. 



Eome, July, 1851. 

Nero, and the Burning of Rome — The Churches — The 
Palaces and Picture Galleries — The Baths of Caracalla — 
The Philosophy of Saintship. 

It is unquestionably my duty by this time to make some 
very fine reflections on the rise and fall of empires, and on 
the vanity of human pride and power, as preached by the 
mighty ruins which, in this pantheon of the past, lie strewed 
around me ; but the truth is, I have been in such a down- 
right, sensible, matter-of-fact humor, ever since I have been 
in Rome, that I dare not try ; and I feel no more disposed 
to poetry than does a man who is gearing himself for a foot- 
race. I am inclined to think the fleas may be somewhat 
answerable for this want of sentiment, for they have paid 
me unremitting attention ever since I have been in the city, 
and it will be admitted that it interferes very much with a 
man's reverie for him to be obliged every now and then to 
dive under his arm, or to fish suddenly with his fingers in 
his neckcloth, to dislodge some sharp intruder who strikes 
him without notice, and I may add, without mercy. Thus 
far, my time in Rome has been rendered wretched by this 
annoyance. The little rascals give* a stranger no rest or 
sleep, and I notice by the appearance of the members of the 
party I am traveling with, that they suffer as much as I. 



ROME. 421 

Indeed, I brought two of the ladies, whom I detected yester- 
day while at dinner, in a. stealthy endeavor to rub their 
shoulders against their chairs, to an open confession, and 
they declared thereupon, with a strong emphasis, and with- 
out further hesitation, that Rome was the most horrid place 
to live in they had ever seen. There is no means of es- 
cape — no mode of relief. Personal cleanliness is no protec- 
tion, for everything is dirty around you ; and no exercise of 
vigilance can keep you free from visitation, for everything 
you approach may harbor an invader. Before going out in 
the morning I spent an hour in special devotion to the condi- 
tion of my clothes, and yesterday and to-day I practiced the 
stratagem of dressing myself on the top of a marble-topped 
table, which I mounted with the dexterity of a McCullom or a 
Ducrow. Yet all was of no avail. I had not rode more 
than five minutes in the street, before I noticed several com- 
petitors for my acquaintance scrambling up the white sur- 
face of my pantaloons, and soon after I was fumbling under 
my cravat, with a pretense of its adjustment, but really to 
dislodge a fellow who had selected that quarter for his 
breakfast. I was quite puzzled for a while to imagine 
where these vagabonds came from, when of a sudden I sus- 
pected the source of the annoyance, and stopping the ba- 
rouche, ordered the driver to shake the carpet which had 
lain under my feet. I was quite delighted at this discovery, 
and was felicitating myself on the prospect of comfort in the 
future, when all at once my calculations were dashed by 
the discovery of a ruthless practice, which the housewives of 
the place indulge in, of shaking their sheets out of the win- 
dows, and of thus billeting their evening troublers upon 
wayfarers, by drifting them in their necks. If I possessed 
sufficient eloquence, I would endeavor to describe my feel- 
ings throughout this morning ; but let it suffice that I re- 



422 



IN A HURRY 



turned to dinner so evidently out of humor, that my want 
of spirits was at once discovered by my friends. They ask- 
ed me where I had been. "I have been," said I, " on a 
second visit to the Tower of the Capitol, and I have discov- 
ered the true reason why Nero burnt Rome." " How is 
that ?" they inquired. " Well," said I, " my guide pointed out 
to me the site of the column on w-hich the tyrant sat and 
fiddled after he had put the town in flames. But 1 rejected 
the fable. It is absurd to suppose that any People could 
become abject enough to endure such an experiment, 
when it would be so much less terrible for them to perish 
by resistance and the sword. No, no ; that is one of the 
humbugs of history. The real state of the affair is, doubt- 
less, that Nero burned the city as a sanatory measure, to 
destroy the filth and fleas, and the story of his fiddling is a 
pleasant perversion of his act of scratching." A hearty laugh 
all around was the answer to this essay, but it did not shake 
me at all in my opinion. 

From St. Peter's 1 paid a visit to several other churches, 
the most renowned of which is the basilica of St. John of 
Lateran, celebrated for its five Lateran Councils, and also 
for its Scala Sancta, or Holy Stairs. These consist of 
twenty-eight marble steps, which are said to be the identi- 
cal ones that belonged to the stair-case in Pilate's house, 
down which Christ descended after he had been adjudged to 
death. At the top of them is a chapel, containing a picture 
of the Savior, as he appeared at the age of twelve, said to 
be painted by St. Luke, and also said to be faithful as a 
likeness in every lineament and expression. Crowds of 
devotees visit here, and always ascend the stair-case on their 
knees, and so devoutly has this duty been performed that 
the marble is protected from further wear by an outer cover- 
ing of boards, which has been several times renewed. The 



ROME 



42J 



other relics of this church are, a slab of porphyry on which 
the soldiers cast lots for the raiment of the Savior, a column 
of the Temple at Jerusalem, said to have been split when 
the vail of the Temple was rent in twain, and a miraculous 
altar table. The quality of this latter is, that if the priest, 
who administers the sacrament, should be skeptical of the 
real presence of the body of the Savior, the consecrated 
wafer would drop from his hand, sink through the marble 
slab of the altar, and leave a hole. I did not hear of any 
special instance, however, when this herectic detector had 
exercised its supernatural agency. 

The magnificence of St. John's will not bear description ; 
neither will that of Santa Maria Maggiore, San Paolo, and 
other basilicas of the same stamp. The most profuse wealth 
is lavished upon them, and they are the depositories of some 
of the finest paintings in Rome. The church of the Capu- 
chins, an order of friars of simple habits and excellent repu- 
tation, contains Guido's celebrated picture of the Arch- 
angel, and the church is likewise interesting for its vaulted 
cemetery beneath, in which lie ranged the skulls and skele- 
tons of the brotherhood, duly labeled and named according 
to the order of their death. " This was the skull of my com- 
panion," said the stout father, who showed us through, pick- 
ing a skull from off a heap, and tapping it on the forehead 
with his finger. I looked at the inscription on the crown, 
and saw that the owner had died in 1839. There are four 
apartments in this cemetery, and the centre of each is devoted 
to a plot of earth, brought from the sacred city of Jerusalem, 
and divided into graves. Right cosily do these old fellows 
lie here together, and as the stout old padre who was with 
us, pointed with his key to' a spot, which he said would be 
his when he died, I thought I could discover a gleam of calm 
enjoyment in his eye. The spot he pointed to was the 



424 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

oldest grave in the cemetery, and it is the custom when a 
brother dies to inter him here, and place the remains of the 
previous occupant upon the shelves. If, however, the one 
who is thus unearthed, be a friar of distinction, his skeleton 
may perhaps be riveted together, and be stood up, with 
gown and cowl about it, along with other grim and awful 
forms, which at intervals of space keep guard over the 
general mass of bones. 

The church of the Capuchins finished my visits to the 
religious establishments, but as there are over three hundred 
of them in Rome, it will not be understood that I visited 
them all. 

The sights most worthy of a stranger's observation in 
modern Rome, are the palaces and their paintings. Fore- 
most, among these, are the palaces of the Vatican and the 
Quirinal, belonging to his Holiness the Pope ; and the 
palaces Barberini, Colonna, Corsini, Farnese, Rospigliosi, 
and Spada, and with these may be classed the Villas Albani 
and Borghese, which are suburban palaces beyond the walls. 
All these sumptuous edifices are filled with the most rare 
and costly works of art, and are not only open to the 
stranger free, but are supplied with catalogues, which are 
handed to visitors to direct them in their examination of the 
paintings. The only fee which is expected for their inspec- 
tion is a small piece of silver to the attendant who shows 
you from room to room, and politely lets you out. This 
apparent liberality, however, is founded on shrewd calcula- 
tions of policy, for it tempts the world to visit Rome, and it 
inspires the obscure of her own population to look upon the 
owners of her grandeur with awe. The latter principle is 
understood and practiced to its highest refinement by the 
Church, whose majestic aisles and altars, grand music and 
impressive ceremonies, cause the visitor to shrink w T ith his 



ROME 



425 



own insignificance, and make more converts than all the 
teachings of her ministers. The exhibition of wealth in any 
shape wields the same description of control over the mass 
of minds, and, in tame countries like this, it, when skillfully 
managed and amiably represented, often becomes a substi- 
tute for a large standing army. The possession of these 
palaces and grand collections of paintings does not, however, 
always argue wealth ; for the owners of some of the galleries 
which would in themselves be worth a large fortune in many 
parts of Europe, are really in very narrow circumstances, 
and were it not for their pride, would be glad to receive the 
gratuities given to their attendants. This is owing partly 
to the craving which at one period of their lives leads 
them into large purchases of paintings, and to the disability 
which at another, exists under the law, to their selling 
them again, except in Rome. It is astonishing to see the 
quantity of wealth that is consumed here in the shape of 
mosaic tables, pictures, statuary, carving, &c, and the 
amount of labor that is sunk in their production. The owner 
of one of these palaces might say — " there, in that corner, 
in the shape of a mosaic table, is the best portion of the life 
of one great genius, which I purchased for two thousand 
scudi. There, upon that canvas, is six years' occupation of 
one of the most renowned painters of the age; and in that 
chamber ranged around and duly numbered, is a series of 
tableux that represent the entire existence of one of the best 
colorists who ever lived." These are boasts ; proud ones for 
a pretentious and arrogant nobility, but they mark a con- 
dition of affairs that is not the proudest boast of a state. 
We have no such advanced condition of the fine arts in 
America, and I trust we may never have. There is as yet 
no great need of them, and as 1 have said before, they can- 
not be cultivated to this pitch without sacrificing better 



426 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

things. " How do you get along so fast in the United States V 
said an Italian to me one day when the progress of my 
country became the subject of conversation. "Because," 
said I, "we have such an immense population." " Why, I 
heard you say just now that you have only twenty-five 
millions; whereas Italy has thirty millions." "Ah, but," 
said I, " all of our twenty-five millions work at something 
useful, which makes them equal to fifty of your millions. 
A great portion of your millions, indeed of the millions 
of all Europe, is consumed in soldiers, painters, priests, and 
people who spend their days in asking alms, making trinkets, 
and in putting little pieces of stone together in the shape of 
mosaics. Were we to abandon our steam-ships, our rail- 
roads, and our iron and other factories, for war, superstition, 
and mere trifles of art, we would soon be as slow and dull, 
and weak as you." 

The paintings which I saw in the palaces were principally 
the works of the old masters, and the subjects which most 
abounded among them were exhibitions of the naked body 
writhing under the torture of the cross, the fire, the wheel, 
or the warm display of limbs while expanding under the 
influences of desire. As a general rule, they were either 
horrifying or sensual, the first class exhibiting all the agonies 
of Prometheus, the Savior and the Saints, and the latter 
abounding with the frolics of Venus, the pranks of Jupiter 
and Pan, the temptation of Joseph, the peeping of the Elders 
at Susanna in the bath, and all the thousand stories in my- 
thology and Scripture that afford opportunity to art to 
exhibit posture and voluptuous expression in the human 
frame. And this, we are told by those who make opinion 
for us, is refining and elevating to the mind. Perhaps it is, 
perhaps not; at any rate, I raise a question on the subject. 

The Quirinal Palace of his Holiness is a very superb 



ROME. 427 

residence. It is well ornamented with large paintings on 
Scripture subjects, and the general cast of all the principal 
apartments is crimson, the Papal color prevailing on the 
walls as well as in the hangings. I entered one grand apart- 
ment, however, the centre-piece of which was a fine fresco 
of Jupiter, and some of his heathen satellites ; another room, 
lined also with crimson, and looking out upon the garden, 
was occupied by a billiard-table. In the Palace Ruspiogli, 
I saw the original of Guido's celebrated picture of Aurora, 
and in the Spada gallery, I was shown the colossal statue 
of Pompey, before which Brutus and Cassius struck Caesar, 
and at the base of which the imperial victim fell. The ride 
to the villas comes within the category of my visit to the 
palaces, and though I may not feel called upon to describe 
them, I consider it proper to commend them to the traveler 
as among the most worthy objects of visit in or near to Rome. 
The conclusion of the afternoon, when I paid the first 
installment of my visit to the palaces, was wound up by a 
general drive, which took me through the Ghetto, or Jews' 
quarter of the town, next to the hill where St. Peter was 
crucified ; then to the famous tomb of Ceecilia Metella, and 
finally to the great remains of the baths of Caracalla. The 
Jews' quarter is an inconceivably filthy place ; the streets 
are narrow and crowded, and the persons of the Hebrews 
who inhabit them are in keeping with the material dirt that 
is spread around. The residents are subject to very strict 
regulations, as might be expected from a Government whose 
policy is founded on a sympathy for the crucifixion of Christ. 
Unhappy as is their condition, and restricted as they are, 
there are eight thousand of them in the city, proving their 
title to be considered a remarkable people, by living and 
flourishing in the midst of their enemies, and in despite 
of all the disabilities which inconvenience and oppress them. 



428 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

The baths of Caracalla are, next to the Coliseum, the 
most stupendous ruin of ancient Rome. We obtained our 
entrance by a wooden gate, to which, after thundering for a 
while, a man came running down the road, and let us in. 
The first thing that struck us as we stepped through the 
aperture, was a fine-sized, lively gray cat, who seemed to be 
the only custodian of the place, and who, after looking at 
us very sharply, came forward with a succession of bounds 
to meet her master. Having rubbed her back against him, 
and sniffed daintily at us afar off, she made another bound, 
and went capering away, as if she intended to show us how 
perfectly she was mistress of the grounds. The remains of 
these baths give token of an enormous structure, and ex- 
hibit more strikingly perhaps than any other ruins, the 
strength with which the ancient Romans built. The rich- 
ness of their structures, when they were in trim, is likewise 
exhibited by pieces of mosaic work found among its rub- 
bish, and now and then a fragment of rich spar which once j 
adorned its walls. It is estimated that their foundations ' 
embrace the circuit of a mile, and their divisions contained 
accommodations for the plebeian, as well as for the patrician 
classes of Rome. After a stay of about half an hour in 
this place, the cat and her master saw us to the gate again, 
and we set out for the ruins of the Palace of the Cassars, 
stopping on our way to view a small, round building, where, 
our guide told us, St. John was boiled in oil. A few steps 
from this spot, indeed, at the other end of the same garden, 
we were conducted with flambeaux into a deep subterranean 
vault or cemetery, which contained the urns of the Claudian 
family (1 think), all duly inscribed, and duly filled with 
bones and ashes. The young ladies were much concerned 
to know, as they lifted one or two loose covers, and saw 
the scant relics within, if these were the identical remains 



ROME. 429 

of that old patrician brood, whose names they bore, and 
doubtless would have swallowed all the asseverations of my 
commissionaire upon the subject, had not I suggested the 
probability that other strangers might, through half a century 
of visits, have been tempted, like themselves, to appropriate a 
bone, and thus keep up the necessity of fresh supplies. 

" Well, what do you think," said the youngest of the 
party to me, " about the little building in the garden ; do 
you think St. John was really boiled in oil there T " I 
have no doubt," I answered, " that somebody suffered death 
within its Walls by that very process. Nothing was more 
likely in several of the barbarous stages through which 
Rome has passed ; and nothing is more likely too, that 
such a circumstance should be remembered. The divinity 
of the character who suffered there, is, however, a question 
worthy to be inquired into." 

" Well, I declare, that is just like Mr. Wilkes' opinion in 
the Borghese gallery, this morning, about the numerous 
crucifixions and martyrdoms of the saints," said a young 
lady a step or two older than the first. " He had no doubt 
that this person and that, had been crucified, and stoned, 
and torn to pieces by tigers ; but he supposed that many of 
them had been bad men, who had deserved it ; men who 
had aroused popular indignation to their punishment by 
some intolerable crimes, and had been subsequently canon- 
ized into saints, on a principle of church policy, not to per- 
petuate the fallibility of priests, and to discourage assump- 
tions of criminal jurisdiction on the part of the people." 

"Mr. Wilkes is more than half right," said the father of 
the two young ladies, " and there is too much of that kind 
of canonization of rascality in our own country, among the 
reformed creeds of the Methodists and Presbyterians. We 
see it every day." 



Rome, July, 1851. 

The Population — The Priests — The Palace of the Ccesars. 

Modern Rome, viewed from the Tower of the Capitol, 
looks like a city that has been curtailed by conflagrations ; 
her walls, a world too wide for her diminished bulk, girding 
at intervals a partial waste, with huge skeletons of antique 
temples rising in the thriftless space, as proofs of occupa- 
tion gone, and as witnesses of perished glory. Modern 
Rome, viewed from its streets, is dull, and cramped, and 
uninviting. The houses are blank and tall ; the streets for 
the most part narrow. Dark at night and dirty by day, 
the city wears a greasiness of appearance which seems to 
be shared with it by a great portion of the population ; and 
particularly by that portion which is composed of women 
and priests. But the Corso must not be included in this 
condemnation, for it is filled with good shops, it contains 
many fine edifices on its line, and runs straight and level, 
without bend or turn, from end to end of the city. The 
show windows, however, are not so well displayed as with 
us, and there is not that appearance of business about them 
which usually attends the fashionable bazars of Paris or 
London. But these are hard comparisons, and it must not 
be forgotten, that it is now the dull season of the year in 
Rome. 



ROME. 431 

The population of ancient Rome has been variously esti- 
mated, by careful writers, from 1,240,000 down to 560,000. 
The present population is set down at 160,000, which 
computation includes the French regiments now in posses- 
sion of the city. There have been writers extravagant 
enough to mark the imperial city up to 14,000,000 ; while 
others have computed it at five and three ; but these are exag- 
gerations, and the fallacy of them may be discovered at 
once, by a glance from the Tower of the Capital, at the 
comparatively small circuit of the ancient walls, and the 
great space occupied by the palaces, amphitheatres and 
temples, devoted in great part to show. This circuit is 
much less than that occupied by Paris, and it does not 
seem to comprise one-third the area of London. Indeed, it is 
very doubtful if Rome ever was so great as either of the won- 
drous modern cities I have named, though it probably exercis- 
ed a more decided power, in its day, by the absence of any- 
rival for the dominion of the world. Rome was mighty 
and magnificent when everything else was dwarfed ; mighty 
as the first great instance of centralization ; mighty in her 
armies ; mighty in her mind ; mighty at any rate, but not 
equaling the giants of this mightier age. It is doubtful if 
she ever exhibited more luxury than Paris ; possessed more 
valor, or was more accomplished in the arts; and when 
time or calamity still strew desolation on the pride of Gaul, 
and make her capital a waste of ruins, I further doubt, if 
the future traveler will hold the latter less in admiration, 
th-an does the present world the cemetery of Roman pride. 

The inhabitants of Rome do not exhibit any marks which 
accredit them as direct descendants of the ancient masters 
of the world. But they are by no means an inferior look- 
ing people, while many of them are decidedly handsome. 
The women are generally comely, and have fine eyes, and 



432 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

contrary to the experience of the first morning of my arri- 
val, I find many of the men well formed and robust. The 
best looking portion of the population is found in a district 
on the right bank of the Tiber, which is inhabited by a class 
of people known as the Trastevere. These people boast of 
their descent from the ancient Romans, and through the 
pride of their genealogy, refuse to intermarry with any 
other of the inhabitants of the city. They are for the most 
part men of fine size and good features, and I have seen a 
baker or a brasier leave his door and walk along the street 
with as much loftiness of carriage as if his shoulders wore 
the toga. 

The Trastevere are said, however, to be very turbulent ; 
nay, it is charged against them that they are prone to the 
stealthy use of weapons, and I was told by a very high au- 
thority in Rome, that for ten or twenty scudi, one could 
go into this district and contract for the removal of an 
enemy, with almost a certainty of having the job performed. 
Assassinations are said to be frequent,. and strangers are 
advised to avoid the quarter after nightfall. The facility 
of taking sanctuary and thus escaping the consequences of 
detection and pursuit, is laid down as one of the causes of 
the frequency of crime ; but this incentive has very much de- 
creased since the arrival of the French. Previous to the 
conquest of 1849, crimes of the highest character were com- 
mitted with comparative impunity. The Pope, whose kind 
heart revolts against all severity, could hardly be induced 
to sign death warrants, and the murderer, after performing 
his work, might either take sanctuary for the time, or bribe 
the inferior officers of justice with a portion of his fee. 
Since the French have been masters of the city, they have 
instituted a rigid authority, and crimes against the per- 
son are punished with the utmost rigor. Last week they 



romp:. 433 

promptly shot two fellows for drawing knives; and but two 
days ago they nailed three of the Trastevere by their ears 
to their own doors and shot them, for having been concerned 
in the assassination of a French soldier. It would be idle 
for the local authorities to attempt to remonstrate against 
these summary military adjudications ; the French would 
still do as they pleased, and it is due to add, that the check 
which they have given to lawless violence has had a benefi- 
cial effect in repressing crime, and meets with the approba- 
tion of the better classes of society. 

It is said, also, that most of the assassinations that are 
performed by hired bravoes, are done at the instigation of 
clerical employers, who have rivals of one sort or another, 
whom they wish to remove from their path, but whether 
this is a scandal against the church I have not had time to 
judge. It is certain that the morals of the city are at a 
very low ebb, and that for this result none are more answer- 
able to public censure than the priests. The thousands of 
them who are here should be able to keep the population in 
good conduct, and being in such great numbers, they are in 
some sort answerable for the condition of affairs. This is a 
hard view, and there is a harder inference under it, but the 
opinion I convey is prevalent in Rome, and with none is it 
more fixed, than the most devout adherents of the church. 
Indeed, the great majority of the population, all of whom 
are Catholics, regard the priests, and principally the Jesuits, 
with the most bitter hatred, and long for a renewal of the 
chance which Garribaldi once afforded, of expelling them 
from Rome. That revolution broke their spell and upset 
their power, but the unhappy invasion of the French 
brought them back, and riveted the domestic servitude 
again. 

For a long time, however, the priests did not venture to 



19 



434 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

resume the full tether of their previous sway, but embold- 
ened by the presence of the French, and the increasing des- 
potic aspect of affairs in Europe, they have within three 
months re-established their assumptions, and enforced once 
more the regulation which may domicile in every family a 
spiritual overseer. This terrible system of espionage reduces 
the people to the most abject state of servitude — a bondage 
worse than the old Roman tyranny, when the emperors 
were masters of every life and lords of every hearth. The 
domiciled ecclesiastic is not only a spy, but the agent dele- 
gated to hear from the wife an'd daughter of the household, 
even such thoughts as he cannot see. This authority over 
them soon, therefore, becomes greater than that of the hus- 
band, and while the latter is away at his work or his busi- 
ness, the shadowy familiar is at home strengthening his 
influence over the frail minds which he has taken in his 
charge. Such an influence cannot but be evil and immoral, 
and it is a matter of no wonderment to our reflections that 
the mass of the men of Rome so ardently hate the ministers 
of a religion they adore. I am also told that all the degrees 
of the church are touched with the prevailing luxury, and 
that the Cardinals are no more to be relied on for ascetism, 
than a fox-hunting young lord, or a French lieutenant in 
country quarters. Outwardly, they exhibit the utmost de- 
corum, as do all classes in Rome, but privately they live in 
the greatest splendor, and there is no worldly pleasure to 
which they are not addicted. In politics the Cardinals rule 
the roast, taking precedence of the lay nobles, and shaping 
the course of the Government. At present their rule is 
very rigid, and the prisons are full of the victims of their 
hates, while hundreds are weekly being banished, or disap- 
pear, as it is whispered, by more fatal methods. The Pope, 
who is really a good and kind-hearted man, though a very 



ROME. 435 

weak one, takes no share in these affairs. He has become 
so thoroughly discouraged by the unfortunate result of his 
attempted reforms, that he has resigned all management in 
the hands of the ecclesiastical nobility. Of all the atroci- 
ties that are practiced in his name, he knows nothing ; he 
neither suggests nor protests, but takes the odium and 
wrings his hands and weeps. Through too much humanity, 
therefore, he delivers his people up to unheard of cruelties, 
and by consulting the disposition of a saint, runs the risk 
of being execrated as a devil. It is a great misfortune that 
such a man as this — a man who cannot curb the revenges of 
his satellites — should have been elevated to the head of a 
powerful system, and but few will regret the hour which 
cuts his tenure short. He is too good for this earth ; gentle 
and tender as he is, his death would be a blessing to his 
people, and the blow that should make him a martyr, while 
it shocked the world, would be regarded as an intervention 
that had been decreed by Heaven. 

The state of society, in other respects than those to which 
I have alluded, is unfortunate in Rome, but all the evil pro- 
ceeds from the fruitful cause of a superabundance of people, 
who are religionists by profession, but politicians in principle 
and in practice. Politicians and government dependents are 
not proverbial for morality and integrity ; and I know of no 
rule, by which those in shovel-hats and black gowns, should 
be less corrupt and profligate than those in broadcloth coats. 
When the temporal cares of the State are confined to tem- 
poral hands, and the ministers of the church devote them- 
selves to affairs of benevolence and matters of doctrine, 
instead of to artifice, ambition, diplomacy, and intrigue, 
then will the priests of Eome retrieve the reputation of the 
Holy City, and obtain for themselves the esteem, which is 



436 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

the reward of the exemplary and faithful laborers of their 
order in the United States. 

I was awakened this last day of my stay in Rome (31st 
July), by heavy thunder, and the noise of a shower of rain. 
I sprang from my feverish sheets with an ecstasy of plea- 
sure, and looking out of my window at the flooded streets, 
enjoyed a revengeful satisfaction in the reflection, that thou- 
sands of my special tormentors must be perishing in the 
deluge. The rain continued to fall heavily for an hour, and 
the atmosphere thus thoroughly purified and cooled, offered 
great temptations for a ride. I accordingly set out for the 
Villa Albani, a superb residence without the walls, belong- 
ing to the Cardinal Albani, celebrated for its fine paintings 
and its rare marbles. Here I saw statues of the rarest exe- 
cution, and busts of most of the Roman Emperors, whose 
countenances, by the way, have become so familiar to me 
now, that I can distinguish one from another without refer- 
ring to a catalogue. Though the styles of these busts, even 
of the same persons, are often very different, the features or 
the identity can never be mistaken. The common impres- 
sion with us is, that the portraits we get of Caesar, Nero, 
Trajan, Caligula, et id genus omne, in compendiums of his- 
tory and in school-books, are mere imaginary sketches, dig- 
nified or debased in feature according to the fancy of the 
artist ; but they are faithful likenesses of these numerous 
busts, and I have no doubt that the sculptured heads them- 
selves are sufficiently exact to afford a test to phrenology in 
its appreciation of character. I am here reminded, while 
upon this point, of a doubt which has often struck me, as 
to the authenticity of many of the pictures attributed to 
great artists, while visiting the princely galleries of Europe, 
and especially of Rome. It did not seem possible to me, 
that one genius could have accomplished so many pieces as 



ROME. 437 

are attributed severally to Raphael, Guido, Rubens, and 
others of their class, even though each had worked day and 
night, and devoted more than a hundred years to his tasks ; 
but I found upon inquiry, that it was and is a custom of the 
great masters in sculpture and in painting, to merely draw 
the outline of their thoughts on canvas, or make a model in 
plaster of their conceptions, and leave their scholars to fill 
the figures out. Finally, the master gives the finishing 
touches, but his labor, compared with the bulk of the work 
laid out upon the piece, is but as a day in comparison to a 
month. Raphael injured his reputation by too much care- 
lessness in this way, but he redeemed it just before his death, 
by a picture of marvelous power, which he painted entirely 
with his own hand. 

From the Villa Albini, I visited three or four churches of 
importance, reaching in my road the Jesuit Chapel, where, 
it being a fete day with that order, I saw high mass per- 
formed in a style of most imposing grandeur. Great wealth 
and magnificence were displayed about the altar ; the choir 
was the most powerful, finished and full, I had ever heard, 
and the ceremonies the most striking I had ever beheld ; 
but there was such a myriad of lights blazing before the 
silver shrine of Loyola, and the aisles were so densely 
crowded with devotees, that I was glad to escape, long be- 
fore the ceremony had concluded. I was reeking with per- 
spiration when I got out, and for the first time during my 
stay in Rome, I experienced a sense of cool refreshment in 
returning from a church to the outer air. Owing to the 
solidity of their construction, and the depth of their walls 
of stone, these buildings are always very cold, and ordina- 
rily as you go into them when they are empty, out of the 
warm atmosphere, you feel as if you had been suddenly 
plunged into an ice-pit. The unwary stranger is likely to 



438 EUROPE IN A. HURRY. 

suffer very much from this transition, and it is for the pur- 
pose of cautioning him against the danger, that I notice the 
circumstance in the conclusion of my remarks from this 
quarter. No person should ever attempt to enter these 
places while in a state of perspiration, and it is prudent, 
even after having paused to cool, before venturing to cross 
the threshold, to fold your coat across your stomach until 
you get thoroughly tempered with the atmosphere of the 
building. A disregard of these precautions leaves the 
stomach liable to be suddenly chilled ; its operations be- 
comes deranged, and diarrhoea supervenes. While in this 
state, a stranger is peculiarly accessible to the attacks of 
malaria, which prevails, more or less, all summer long, and 
presently he may be dead. It may be written down, that 
many a man has lost his life by being in too great a harry 
to enter the church. 

In the afternoon I employed the waning hours of my 
stay, in a drive with the family of my friends to the gate 
by which the French entered Rome. From this point we 
saw Garribaldi's house, now one of the interesting ruins of 
modern Rome, and had an opportunity of satisfying our- 
selves, by personal examination, that the report was true 
that the French general had selected one of the strongest 
portions of the Roman wall for his bombardment, rather 
than direct his shot in a quarter of the town that would 
subject the Coliseum and other grand ruins to destruction. 
This protracted the siege several months, and occasioned 
great loss of life to the troops through their exposure to the 
malaria of the campagna; but Oudinot was inexorable 
against entreaties to change his position to a more vulner- 
able point. His answer was, " No, France will be censured 
throughout the world if she destroys these sacred remains, 
and as for myself, I shall be execrated through all time in 



ROME. 439 

company with Attila and Guiscard." When this refined 
forbearance is compared with the brutal spirit which plun- 
dered the Coliseum to build palaces for Roman princes, one 
may say, " Verily, the Gaul has become redeemed, and the 
Roman has degenerated into a brute." 

From this battered angle we drove to the ruins of the 
palace of the Csesars, and knocking at a little wooden door 
that was set in a high dead wall, we found it swing back of 
itself, and invite us, as it were, up a narrow pair of wooden 
stairs, of two flights, to the level of the ruins. A good- 
looking woman, of middle age, who had pulled the bobbin 
that let us in, received us, with a child in her arms, in a 
little paved court-yard at the head of the flight, and passed 
us through a side-door into what seemed to us to be once a 
vineyard, an orchard, and a garden. Under this exuberance, 
however, were the ruins we had come to see. The vine, the 
fig, the almond, the peach, the apricot, the nectarine, were 
thriving here luxuriantly among the halls where once trod 
the imperial rulers of the earth, and over mosaic pavements 
and through what was once the perfumed boudoir of beauty, 
trailed some rank and idle vine, lurked some reptile, or 
skulked some moping bird, hoarding its doleful music for 
the night. 

Despite the verdure of the platform through which we 
walked, this scene was mournful. Here a battered stair- 
case suggested the swarms of bravery and beauty which 
had once idled over it to luxurious halls beyond, or a shat- 
tered alcove, with its empty niche, made us regret the gem 
of art which once had occupied its space. The vineyard and 
garden, we were told, grows upon the second story, while 
to the road, rose a high and square barrack of coarse walls, 
the shell perhaps of what once might have been a banquet 
hall worthy of the gods, but now occupied as a barn, and 



440 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

stuffed with hay, which protruded from every window. The 
ruins were all rude, the marble facing of the walls having 
most of it been carried away, and nothing but rough ma- 
sonry, except in a few instances of marble steps, remaining. 
In the rubbish, however, which had crumbled from the ceil- 
ings, our guide grubbed up clumps of fine mosaic work, and 
bits of lapis lazuli, to attest the magnificence of the original 
structure, and to confer upon our young ladies, as mementoes 
of their visit. We likewise preserved some peach pits, 
after we had eaten our fill of fruit, for the purpose of plant- 
ing them at home, and in the height of my enthusiasm, I 
climbed an almond-tree, to make prize of a particularly fine 
looking nut, for the patriarch of the party. The afternoon 
was beautiful, the place romantic, and involuntarily we all 
sat down, spread out our stores as if it were at a pic-nic — 
and what a place for a pic-nic the palace of the Caesars would 
be, and compared ideas and reflections. After expressing a 
great deal of wisdom in this way, after pointing out to each 
other, all at once, a bird that swooped down to our faces, 
after tracing in the distance the black trail of a Naples 
steamer, fifteen miles distant on the crimson margin of the 
Mediterranean, we rose, loitered through a by-path, amid 
rank grass, to the tomb of Seneca ; and when dusk had 
settled upon the ruins, we retired. As the little wooden 
door at the bottom of the stair-case closed behind me, I 
A'as reminded of my departure on the morrow, and felt 
that I had bidden farewell to the Eternal City, her Pagan 
temples, her Christian altars; her new structures, and her 
ancient ruins ; her crimes, her glories, her hints of past 
greatness, and her volumes of present instruction, perhaps 
forever. 



Atlantic Ocean, Oct., 1851. 

From Rome to Paris — the Demon of the Soa?ie — Journey to 
London — Departure for home — Conclusion. 

On Friday the first day of August, as early as half-past 
four o'clock in the morning, that pattern of all couriers, 
Louis Cisi, knocked stoutly at my chamber door, and asked 
me politely, if I were ready to take my walk in the diligence 
to Civita Vecchia, in order to catch the afternoon steamer 
for Marseilles. My immediate answer to Louis Cisi, was 
given by a bound upon the floor, and my full reply was ren- 
dered in a few minutes afterward, by stowing myself along 
with my friends, in a huge cage on wheels, which, though it 
freighted us at $3 a piece, was better suited to the purposes 
of a traveling menagerie, than to the transportation of civi- 
lized human beings. But we did not suffer so much in this 
diligence as we had in the one that conveyed us down to 
Rome, for the road was laid by the shower of the day before ; 
and the absence of the sun until near the termination of our 
journey in the afternoon, kept the atmosphere refreshing. 
I here paid $17 60 for a ticket to Genoa, and at five 
embarked on board the steamer " Ville de Marseilles.'''' At 
nine o'clock the next morning we breakfasted in Leghorn ; 
at half-past twelve we resumed our voyage, and anchored in 
the harbor of Genoa at ten o'clock at night. In consequence 



19* 



442 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

of the passport regulations of the place, however, we were 
prevented from debarking till the following morning. 

And here I bade my pleasant friends good bye. They 
were bound for Turin and the Lake of Geneva, to see the 
" fete of the vintage" at Vevay, and I was leaving direct for 
the southern port of France. I therefore embarked again 
at noon, getting ticketed for $15 40 more, and on the fol- 
lowing morning, (Monday,) at eleven o'clock, landed at 
Marseilles. 

The aspect of this harbor, as you approach it from the 
sea, is bleak and uninviting. It is backed by arid hills and 
rimmed with burnt and mud-colored rocks that bear not a 
wisp of verdure. The gateway of the harbor lies between two 
fortified rocks, so narrow that it looks like a bight, and the 
appearance of the town under the influence of the summer 
sun, is that of a yellow cauldron seething and flowing with 
heat. The basin, too, is dirty, taking all the drainage of the 
town, and being littered on its sluggish surface with floating 
straw and muck. The town, however, redeems itself when 
you are once within it, and the fine stores and shaded boule- 
vards make amends for its outward visage, while its activity 
and stir of business render it quite cheerful. But there was 
not sufficient attraction here to tempt me to make a stay, 
so I got ticketed for a twenty -three hour ride to Lyons in a 
diligence, for forty-six francs ($8 75) and set out again at 
three o'clock. We drove first to the post-office and took in 
the mails, next to the rail-way station some two or three 
miles off, and there the body of our diligence, after being 
driven in the court-yard, was gripped by pulleys, and 
with all its cargo in it, lifted from its wheels and depos- 
ited upon the rail-way trucks. Several of the diligences 
were treated in a like manner, until the bodies made up 
quite a lengthened train, when leaving our wheels and 



FROM ROME TO PARIS. 443 

our horses behind us, we were whistled off through an olive 
growing country to Avignon, some fifty miles to the north. 
There the rail-road terminated, when being lifted upon new 
sets of coach wheels, and hitching in fresh horses, we rattled 
away all night at the good old rate of seven to seven and a 
half miles. We lost no time by stoppages, however ; the 
utmost celerity was observed in changing horses, and we 
were allowed but ten minutes in the morning to get our 
breakfast. From this hour until two, at which time we ar- 
rived at Lyons, we enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the val- 
ley of the Rhone, and during a part of it, also enjoyed the 
satisfaction of beating the speed of a river steamer, which 
was struggling up against the rapid current to our desti- 
nation. 

My sojourn at Lyons lasted but four hours, but I em- 
ployed most of that time in driving about the city in com- 
pany with Mr. Brassey, the present Rail-road King of 
England, and Dr. Barnett, the physician of his laborers, 
who had been fellow travelers with me from Genoa. These 
gentlemen were both of superior intelligence, and we ex- 
changed information in relation to our respective countries 
with great advantage to either side. They had been to 
Turin, with a view to estimate the cost of a projected rail- 
road between that point and Genoa, preliminary to a pro- 
posal on the part of Mr. Brassey, for a contract with the 
Sardinian government, to the extent of several millions of 
dollars. He had also in contemplation a proposal to pur- 
chase from the government of France, the great rail-way 
between Chalons and Paris, and in order to learn the facili- 
ties for its extension south, we drove to the confluence of 
the Rhone and Soane, which meet at the bottom of the city, 
and which junction forms the bridging point. Returning 
from thence, we scoured the town, and at six o'clock em- 



444 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

barked on a long, needle-shaped steamer, that was to con- 
vey us to Chalons, at ten francs, or two dollars per head. 
I use this term, per head, because we were huddled together 
like so many cattle, and because, for two-thirds of the crowd 
of passengers there were no resting places, except such as 
we could find on deck. This dreary prospect made us re- 
sist the invitations of fatigue until near midnight, when, be- 
ing quite worn out by our previous sharp travel, Mr. Bras- 
sey, the Doctor, and myself, were glad to creep under the 
great tarpaulin that covered the baggage, and stow ourselves 
among the trunks and boxes, as if we were three houseless 
philosophers in a lumber yard. But even this poor refuge 
was denied us, for at intervals of every half hour or so, as 
the boat shot the bridges, some rough fellow, whose duty it 
was to lower the smoke pipe, would jump on our bodies 
in the midst of our sleep, and trample us .with as little con- 
sideration as if we were heaps of hay. But we made no 
resistance. The labor of travel had utterly broken our 
spirits, and the man of millions was as passive under the 
feet of the plebeian, as if sufferance were his nature. By- 
and-by the ludicrousness of our position inspired us to 
merriment, and drove away sleep, and turning the evil into 
profit, we would lie and wait for the genie of the pipe to 
jump upon us, as if it were a capital joke. At length the 
day broke, the chilly fog which we had hidden from lifted, 
and we arrived at Chalons. Here we met the rail-road 
which connected with Paris, and leaning backward in the 
spacious cushioned seats, managed to obtain that sleep which 
had been jounced out of us by the demon of the Soane. 
We started from Chalons at six o'clock in the morning, our 
tickets were six dollars each, and we reached Paris at ten 
minutes past four in the afternoon of the Gth of August ; 
completing for me a journey of five days and ten hours fron* 



FROM PARIS TO LONDON 



445 



Rome, the passage or ticket expenses of which amounted 
to fifty-three dollars and twenty cents. 

I found a large number of Americans in Paris, several of 
whom were New Yorkers, and personal friends. Added to 
this, the city was particularly gay with reviews and shows, 
so I remained until the first of September, re-uniting in the 
interim, with the good friends I had parted with at Genoa, 
who reached Paris some two weeks after me. They remain- 
ed, however, only five or six days, and then set out for Eng- 
land, on their way home, leaving Louis Cisi a waif entirely 
upon my hands. But I should rather say, I was on Cisi's 
hands, for an acute inflammation of my shoulder, superin- 
duced unquestionably by my night exposure on the Lyons 
steamer, made me prisoner to my room for the best part 
of the last week of my stay, and only consented to let me 
up, after I had paid tribute to the medical faculty of Paris 
in the sum of two hundred and forty francs. I may as well 
mention here, that Americans are very subject to attacks 
of rheumatism in London and in Paris. The atmosphere 
is damp in both places, and a very little exposure at night 
is likely to bring on a visitation of the fiend. Paris is in 
this respect, the worst place of the two, for its clear atmos- 
phere is deceptive, while that of London is compounded of 
horrors, and gives you fair warning to guard against its 
dangers in advance. 

After shaking Louis Cisi cordially by the hand, and bid- 
ding him wipe the tear out of his eye, I left Paris for Lon- 
don, by the seven o'clock evening train, in company with 
three New Yorkers, paying each $15 18, on the promise of 
the rail-way placards to be put through from end to end in 
eleven hours. The French end of this promise was kept, 
so far as the rail-way running was concerned, but the delay 
at Calais, the slowness of the wretched British steamer that 



440 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

dug us across the channel, and the time consumed by the 
custom-house authorities at Dover, threw us over to the 
second morning train from the latter place, and the result 
was, we did not reach London until eleven o'clock, a.m., 
thus translating our eleven hours into sixteen. 

"Where does your honors wish to be set down?" asked 
the moist cabman, after we had stowed ourselves in his 
vehicle at the station. 

"Drive us to some hotel where they speak English!" 
replied one of my friends on the front seat, who, feeling the 
loss of his courier, forgot for the moment, that he was now 
in a place where he could take care of himself. 

" Drive us to Morley's," said I, taking the remark for a 
sarcasm on London pronunciation, " I believe they speak 
English there." 

The cabman recovered from his bewilderment ; the police- 
men who politely closed the carriage-door for us, indulged 
in a quiet smile, and away we rolled towards our indicated 
destination. 

We found London very full of strangers. It was the last 
month of the Great Exhibition ; the hotels were crowded, 
and the streets were thronged with wondering country. folk, 
so that the whole town looked like a fair. Lively to all, it 
was particularly lively just then to an American, for the 
superiority of our mechanics had recently been made mani- 
fest, in the triumph of our yacht over the united British 
squadron ; while upon the land we had given England a 
lesson in Hussey's and McCormick's reaping machines, that 
wrung a burst of admiration even from the London Times. 
England had always claimed to be at the head of the world 
in tKe science of agriculture, and " Brittania rules the waves" 
was every Briton's boast ; but the " Reaper" laid low the 
former pride, and the clipper of New York obliged the 



LAST DAYS IN LONDON 



447 



boasters of the main to take down their sign. The exploits 
of Hobbs, too, in the science of bank locks, was in every- 
body's mouth; while to the art of war, Colt of New Jersey 
had made the most potent contribution that came from any 
quarter of the earth. To cap the climax, the Baltic, one of 
the Collins line of New York steamers, had just made a trip 
to Liverpool across the Atlantic in the unprecedented time 
of nine days and nineteen hours, bringing with her the news 
that the people of the United States had by their incompar- 
able enterprise solved the great problem of commercial ages, 
and by two routes across the Isthmus, snatched the prize of 
the East India trade by a direct route across the Western 
Ocean. John Bull was struck aghast ; for the first time he 
had gotten a fair view of the genius of his offspring ; but he 
behaved himself like an honest old gentleman, and in amend- 
ment of his sneers at the commencement of the Fair, he 
lauded us with our full meed of praise. All the London 
newspapers were lavish of their praise on every point that 
I have stated, while English gentlemen in private intercourse 
would frankly laugh at their own dullness, in suffering them- 
selves to be so outstripped in noble competition. This was 
exceeding gratifying, and I felt justified anew in the expres- 
sion which I made in one of my early letters, that an Eng- 
lishman never appears at so great an advantage as at home, 
and that when he is once convinced you are worthy of his 
acquaintance, nobody can exceed him in hospitality and sub- 
stantial goodness of heart. He often shows badly when 
abroad, and he always esteems himself better than any one 
he does not know, but he has no prejudices under his roof, 
scorns to be unjust when you appeal to his magnanimity, 
and never wounds your nationality with a sneer. 

I remained in London until the close of the Exhibition, 
and having " done up" the great sights in my former visit, 



448 EUROPE IN A HURRY. 

I employed most of my remaining time^n short excursions 
in the country, and in social intercourse. I made, during 
this period, the acquaintance of several literary men of 
mark, and received from one the compliment of a special 
dinner, to which he invited Ledru Rollin, Mazzini,and Caus- 
sidiere, en my expressing a desire to be brought in contact 
with them. At another dinner party, at Richmond, I had 
the pleasure of meeting, among the fourteen guests who were 
present, the Honorable Robert J. Walker, Mr. Ouseley, for- 
merly British Minister to the Brazils, Hon. Ashbel Smith, 
of Texas, Gen. Gibbs McNeil, and Wm. Beach Lawrence, 
the son and private secretary of our Minister to the Court 
of St. James. Though the occasion was a Sunday one, we 
all made speeches ; Mr. Walker taking the subject of Free 
Trade; Mr. Ouseley replying to a compliment to his friend, 
Sir Henry Bulwer ; Mr. Smith speaking on the crisis 
through which the United States had happily passed by 
means of the Compromise Bill ; Mr. Lawrence answering 
to the health of the American Minister, and the humble ser- 
vant of the reader rising on a call from Mr. Lawrence, and 
discoursing on the duties of the Press, to dissipate whatever 
jealousy and unkindly feeling may remain between the two 
great nations, England and America, by a reciprocal exhibi- 
tion of each other's good qualities, rather than by a captious 
presentation of the bad. I subsequently to this dined at the 
Embassy, in a circle of eight, at which Mr. Walker was also 
present, but on this occasion the party confined themselves 
to conversational discussion, in which Pennsylvania bonds 
and Mississippi repudiation were rather severely handled 
by Mr. Peabody, the talented American Banker, who is the 
rival in London of the Barings, for the American banking 
business. Mr. W r alker came forward, however, to the 
defense of Mississippi, as he was bound to do, but it unfor- 



CONCLUSION. 449 

tunately so happened that Pennsylvania had no defender. 
In occupations of this sort I passed my time in London 
until the 13th October, when I bade it farewell, and on the 
15th set sail from Liverpool, in the steamer Pacific, to 
return home, after an absence of just five months from New 
York. 

I have now but one task to perform, and that is, to thank 
those gentlemen who have afforded me facilities for seeing 
to advantage, the various places in my travels where I found 
them resident. Among these I hold myself especially 
indebted for courtesies to Mr. Cass, our Charge d'Affairs at 
Rome ; Mr. Vesey, Consul at Antwerp ; Mr. Goodrich, 
Consul at Paris ; the Hon. Abbot Lawrence, Minister to 
Great Britain, and Col. T. B. Lawrence, his private Secre- 
tary and son. All of these gentlemen, and none more so 
than the two latter, are easily accessible to their country- 
men, and their demeanor is marked by a plain and unosten- 
tatious affability, which shows a desire to serve, that does 
not always distinguish the manner of those who have been 
cast among the great. There are several gentlemen in pri- 
vate life whom it would afford me pleasure to particularize 
for favors shown and hospitalities extended to me, but I 
will lump my thanks to them, and, in conclusion, add my 
sincere acknowledgments to those of my readers who have 
paid me the compliment to accompany me to this point of 
my correspondence, and who have shown the patient good 
nature to endure it. 



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